of  t&e 

Oniucrsitp  of  jQottb  Carolina 


Collection  of  J5ott&  CaroUniana 

4£nBotorti  bp 

Jo&n  feprunt  ^ill 

of  tDe  Glass  of  1889 

ex 

C  GE  L 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00039589007 


This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


JHIS  TITLE  HAS  BEEN  MICROFILMED 


Form  No.  471 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/lilliandevereorcOOclem 


Lillian 

De  J^i ERE 


OR,  THE  CURSE  RANDOLPH 
HALL 


By  MARIE  CLEMENTS 


Mrs  .  T  £\  Ti+^h^ 


SCROLL  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


Copyrighted  1902 
By  Marie  Clements 


ILLIAN  De  VeRE 


The  Memory 
of  Mv 
Father. 


CHAPTER  I. 


lillian's  childhood. 

As  twilight  deepened  and  objects  on  the  street  be- 
came too  indistinct  to  furnish  topics  of  conversation, 
a  hush  fell  on  the  three  girls  sitting  in  the  bay  win- 
dow. Presently  a  deep  sigh  from  one  aroused  the 
others  from  their  reverie  and  one  of  her  companions 
asked : 

"Louise,  what  makes  you  so  quiet?  It  is  very  un- 
usual for  you  to  be  so  thoughtful.  You  must  be  trying 
to  decide  some  weighty  question.  Come,  now,  tell 
Alice  and  myself  what  you  were  thinking  about  so 
seriously.' ' 

"Well,  I  was  just  wishing  we  lived  in  the  time  of 
fairies  and  that  one  would  appear  to  me  and  offer 
to  bestow  upon  me  one  wish— just  one." 

"If  so,"  laughingly  replied  the  other,  "you  would 
be  in  as  great  a  state  of  perplexity  and  perhaps  make 
as  ridiculous  a  wish  as  the  old  man  and  woman  we 
read  of." 

"No,  indeed,  I  would  not.  It  would  not  require  a 
moment's  thought.  I  would  wish  for  wealth.  I  have 
been  poor  all  my  life.  Poverty  has  held  me  in  her 
galling  chains.  Do  you  suppose  Bruce  in  prison  would 
have  hesitated  a  moment  if  one  desire  had  been 
granted  him  ?  No,  he  would  have  wished  for  freedom, 
and  I  wish  for  freedom  from  the  necessity  of  earning 
every  dollar  I  spend.  I  would  wish  for  such  wealth 
as  Lillian  De  Vere  will  possess,  the  petted  child  of 
fortune,  heiress  of  thousands,  having  no  desire  which 
money  can  purchase  ungratified.  Yes,  I  would  wish 
for  the  golden  key  that  unlocks  the  door  of  luxury  and 


6 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


society  to  its  fortunate  possessor.  Now,  Alice,  sup- 
pose a  fairy  were  to  appear  to  you  and  give  you  one 
wish;  what  would  you  ask?" 

"I  would  not  hesitate  to  desire  beauty.  From  a 
child  I  have  deplored  my  lack  of  personal  attractions. 
I,  who  so  much  need  it,  would  ask  such  beauty  as 
would  win  the  admiration  of  all  who  should  behold 
it— such  peerless,  enchanting  beauty  as  Lillian  De 
Vere  will  possess  when  she  reaches  womanhood ;  when 
the  exquisite  loveliness  of  her  childish  face  shall  have 
matured  into  yet  richer  charms,  which,  combined  with 
her  fascinating  manner  and  French  vivacity,  shall  en- 
chain the  affections  of  all  about  her.  Yes,  I  would  crave 
such  beauty  as  hers." 

6 4 And  you,  Janet;  quiet  little  Quakeress;  what 
would  you  ask  from  the  kind  fairy?" 

' 'I  would  ask  intellect;  in  other  words,  by  one  magic 
touch  of  the  fairy's  wand,  I  would  wish  to  become  & 
cultivated,  refined,  accomplished  woman,  reigning  a 
queen  in  society,  not  by  the  power  of  mere  beauty, 
which  a  single  disease  might  destroy,  nor  by  wealth, 
which  might  'take  wings  and  fly  away,'  but  by  that 
influence  which  talents  of  a  superior  order  ever  exert 
on  others.  In  fine,  I  should  like  to  be  just  such  an 
intelligent,  interesting  a  woman  as  Lillian  De  Vere 
has  the  talents  and  opportunity  to  become,  were  she 
to  exert  her  natural  gifts.  But  she  is  too  indolent— 
too  fond  of  her  ease  to  cultivate  her  talents,  and  thus 
will  fail  to  become  the  fine  specimen  of  womanhood  she 
is  capable  of  becoming  by  means  of  her  intellect,  her 
wealth  and  her  beauty.  She  knows  she  can  become 
a  belle  by  virtue  of  what  she  already  possesses,  and 
will  not  be  likely  to  make  the  effort  to  deserve  the 
position  assigned  to  her  by  fortuitous  circumstances 
and  which  she  could  so  highly  adorn.  " 

' 'Yes,"  said  the  one  called  Louise,  "Lillian  must 


LILLIAN'S  CHILDHOOD 


7 


have  been  a  favorite  of  the  fairies— they  lavished  on 
her  the  gifts  which  they  deal  so  sparingly  to  others, 
one  of  which,  we  think,  would  have  made  us  happy. 
But  come,  James  has  lighted  the  gas.  Let's  go  in  and 
have  a  game  of  Parchesi  before  supper.  I  wonder 
where  Lillian  is." 

The  three  girls  repaired  to  the  parlor,  unaware  that 
they  had  had  a  listener,  little  dreaming  of  the  influ- 
ence their  words  would  exert.  In  the  front  yard, 
near  the  bay-window,  reclining  on  a  rustic  seat  under 
a  tree  whose  thick  foliage  hid  her  from  view,  was  a 
girl  about  ten  years  of  age.  She  had  been  reading, 
but  as  darkness  came  on  she  shut  the  book  and  was  gaz- 
ing listlessly  about  her,  when  her  attention  was  ar- 
rested by  hearing  her  name  called.  She  listened  and 
heard  the  conversation  above  recorded.  At  first,  a 
smile  of  gratified  vanity  wreathed  her  face  as  she 
heard  her  beauty  praised,  but  this  was  succeeded  by 
a  flush  of  shame  as  the  words  reached  her  ears, ' '  She  is 
too  indolent— too  fond  of  her  ease,  to  cultivate  her 
talents. "  *  *  Indolent  means  lazy, ' 9  she  said  to  herself. 
4  *  Aunt  Annie  says  I  am  too  lazy  to  study  or  to  prac- 
tice, and  my  teachers  say  I  am  bright  enough,  but  so 
indolent  and  inattentive.  And  I  must  be,  for  I  never 
gain  any  headmarks  in  my  classes,  nor  any  prizes  for 
good  lessons,  nor  any  medals,  nor  any  distinctions  in 
my  studies.  Aunt  Annie  said  she  waited  very  eagerly 
last  session  to  hear  my  name  called  on  some  study  and 
was  so  mortified  not  to  have  it  mentioned  with  the  rest 
of  my  classmates.  I  know  I  can  get  my  lessons  easily 
enough  when  I  try,  but  I  very  seldom  feel  like  trying. 
I  like  to  play  and  read  better.  But  I  intend  to  do  bet- 
ter. I  will  study  and  practice  and  make  Uncle  Fran- 
cis and  Aunt  Annie  proud  of  me.  I  will  try  to  become 
such  a  woman  as  Miss  Janet  thinks  I  may.  I  will  be- 
gin this  very  night/ 9  and  a  look  of  determination 


8  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


flashed  from  her  beautiful  eyes.  That  night,  after 
supper,  there  was  not  the  usual  coaxing  for  Aunt 
Annie  to  let  her  go  in  the  parlor  to  entertain  company 
and  play  games  with  the  young  lady  visitors.  Seiz- 
ing her  books,  she  ran  up  stairs  to  her  room,  lighted 
the  gas  to  its  fullest  extent,  seated  herself  at  the  cen- 
ter-table and  was  soon  busy  at  work.  But  habit  is 
hard  to  conquer,  and  the  indulged  child  found  it  hard 
to  become  interested  in  dry  text-books  while  fascinat- 
ing story  books  lay  near  her  and  seemed  to  invite  her 
perusal.  Several  times  her  resolution  wavered,  but  she 
perseveringly  kept  on  amid  yawns  and  sighs  of  fatigue. 
Once  she  rested  her  weary  head  and  sleepy  eyes  on  the 
table,  using  her  arms  for  a  pillow,  "to  rest  just  for  a 
moment,"  she  thought,  but  she  fell  asleep,  and  after 
a  little  nap,  awoke  in  surprise  to  find  she  had  slept. 
Bathing  her  face,  she  sat  down  to  her  tasks  with  re- 
newed vigor.  The  next  day  teachers  and  scholars 
were  surprised  at  the  well  prepared  lessons  of  the 
child  whose  ambition  it  had  hitherto  seemed  impossi- 
ble to  arouse,  and  their  surprise  increased  as  day  after 
day  and  week  after  week  passed  and  she  continued  to 
improve  and  to  contend  for  and  to  win  prizes  and 
distinctions.  This  change  was  by  no  means  easily 
effected  in  the  self -indulged  girl.  Fortunately  she  pos- 
sessed a  strong  will,  which  had  been  strengthened  by 
being  rarely  opposed.  This  arrayed  on  the  side  of  her 
resolution  was  a  great  help  to  her,  but  she  was  often 
tempted  to  fall  back  into  her  former  indolent  habits. 
The  interesting  story-books  so  carefully  selected  by 
her  aunt  with  a  desire  to  stimulate  in  her  a  taste  for 
pure  reading  proved  a  temptation  to  her,  but  the 
thought  of  her  aunt's  smiles  of  approval  and  words  of 
encouragement  kept  her  up  to  her  studies  that  she 
might  not  disappoint  and  grieve  one  she  loved  so 
fondly.    One  night,  when  study  was  more  than  usu- 


LILLIAN'S  CHILDHOOD  9 


ally  a  weariness  to  the  flesh,  she  asked  her  uncle: 
' '  Uncle  Francis,  if  you  had  something  to  do  and  didn  ?t 
want  to  do  it  at  all,  what  would  you  do  about  it  ? ' ' 

"Why,  I  wouldn't  do  it  if  I  didn't  want  to  do  it  at 
all." 

'  1  But  suppose  it  was  something  that  you  knew  it  was 
your  duty  to  do  ? " 

"Well,  in  that  case,  I  hope  I  would  be  brave  enough 
to  d£  it.  I  would  take  for  my  motto, 1 1  can  and  I  will, ' 
and  aided  by  it,  would  go  manfully  forward  in  the 
performance  of  duty.  But  what  is  it  my  little  girl 
doesn't  want  to  do,  but  feels  she  ought?" 

"I  don't  want  to  study  my  lessons,  uncle.  I  don't 
like  to  study." 

_  "Well,  darling,  you  shan't  get  the  horrid  old  lessons 
if  you  don 't  want  to.  Why  should  you  spoil  the  luster 
of  those  bright  eyes  by  study  ?  There  will  be  no  need 
of  it.  You  will  be  beautiful  and  rich,  and  that  will  be 
enough  for  you, ' '  and  he  drew  the  girl  to  his  sidt  and 
tenderly  stroked  her  head.  But  Aunt  Annie  looked 
up  from  her  crocheting  and  said,  gently : 

"Col.  De  Vere,  you  teach  by  precept  and  counter- 
act by  example.  I  would  rathgr  encourage  Lillian  to 
write  upon  her  banner,  ( I  can  and  I  will, '  and  by  the 
power  of  those  magic  words,  by  which  so  many  have 
won  success,  conquer  the  love  of  ease  and  become  an 
intelligent  woman,  instead  of  shirking  duty  and  ne- 
glecting the  opportunities  for  improvement  which 
will  never  come  to  her  again.  Will  you  not,  dear, 
prove  yourself  brave  and  self-sacrificing  for  duty's 
sake?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Annie,  I  will  take  those  words  for  my 
watchword,  for  while  Uncle's  advice  is  the  easier,  I 
know  yours  is  the  better,  and  I  will  try  hard  to  fol- 
low it." 

She  did  try  and  succeeded  and  acquired  that  un- 


10 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


yielding  firmness  which  she  afterwards  displayed  in 
the  trying  scenes  of  her  life. 

Lilliam  De  Vere  was  born  in  France.  Her  father 
was  a  French  gentleman  and  her  mother  an  English 
lady  of  extraordinary  beauty,  and  as  good  as  she  was 
beautiful.  When  Lillian  was  about  two  years  old  her 
mother's  health  began  to  fail.  The  advice  of  the  best 
physicians  was  followed,  but  to  no  effect.  She  grew 
worse,  instead  of  better,  until  as  a  last  resort  a  sea 
voyage  was  recommended.  Monsieur  De  Vere's 
brother,  the  only  near  relative  he  possessed,  had  mar- 
ried an  American  lady  and  was  living  in  the  United 
States.  With  high  hopes  that  his  wife  would  be  re- 
stored to  health  by  the  change,  he  prevailed  on  her  to 
come  to  America.  The  first  few  days  of  the  voyage 
he  was  flattered  by  the  seeming  improvement  in  his 
wife's  healthy  but  ere  long  she  grew  rapidly  worse, 
and  before  half  the  voyage  was  accomplished  she  died, 
and  her  body  was  buried  in  the  sea.  After  her  death 
her  husbtand  fell  into  a  state  of  deep  melancholy  from 
which  he  never  recovered.  At  the  end  of  two  years, 
during  which  time  every  effort  was  made  by  his 
brother  to  arouse  him  from  his  sad  condition,  he  died, 
leaving  his  child  to  Col.  De  Vere,  who,  having  no  chil- 
dren, gladly  adopted  the  lovely  child,  who  had  inher- 
ited her  mother's  rare  beauty  and  gentle  disposition. 
So  tenderly  had  she  been  reared  she  had  never  felt 
the  loss  of  her  parents,  for  her  uncle  and  his  wife  loved 
her  as  their  own  child.  Col.  De  Vere's  income  was 
amply  sufficient  for  the  wants  of  his  family.  Being 
of  an  ease-loving  disposition,  he  would  have  been  con- 
tented with  this  but  for  Lillian's  sake.  The  property 
of  his  brother  had  gradually  dwindled  away  until  at 
his  death  just  enough  was  left  to  pay  his  indebtedness. 
The  De  Veres  had  from  time  immemorial  been  a  proud, 


LILLIAN'S  CHILDHOOD  11 


wealthy  family,  and  Lillian,  the  last  representative  of 
that  family,  must  have  wealth  at  her  command. 

So  Col.  De  Vere  plunged  into  speculations,  and  they 
had  proved  successful  beyond  his  most  sanguine  ex- 
pectations. Once,  when  elated  with  the  large  returns 
of  money  invested,  he  called  Lillian  to  him.  Pushing 
back  the  thick  clustering  curls  from  the  fair  forehead, 
he  gazed  at  her  with  mingled  love  and  admiration  and 
said: 

"Lillian,  you  will  be  a  wealthy  heiress.  Your  rare 
beauty,  with  its  golden  frame,  will  make  you  an  object 
of  universal  admiration.  You  will  be  courted  and  flat- 
tered enough  to  turn  your  head  if  you  were  not  so 
sensible.  Yes,  I  predict  for  you  a  happy,  brilliant  ca- 
reer. You  will  repose  upon  beds  of  ease  and  your  feet 
will  press  thornless  roses.  You  were  born  under  a 
lucky  star  certainly,  for  you  will  be  free  from  the 
troubles  to  which  so  many  are  incident.' ' 

"Ah,  Col.  De  Vere,"  his  wife  said,  "life  is  too  un- 
certain for  you  to  attempt  to  make  any  prediction  in 
regard  to  the  future  with  any  degree  of  certainty.  The 
most  sunny  skies  are  often  suddenly  obscured  by  dark 
clouds;  so,  too,  often  into  our  lives  fall  sudden  and 
crushing  trials,  least  expected  and  harder  to  bear  be- 
cause we  are  unprepared  for  them.  Teach  our  little 
girl  to  strive  to  obtain  the  true  riches  i  6  which  neither 
moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt  and  which  thieves  cannot 
steal."  Encourage  her  to  cultivate  beauty  of  char- 
acter, which,  unlike  mere  personal  beauty,  grows  more 
beautiful  as  time  touches  it  with  his  fingers,  rounding 
and  moulding  it  each  year  into  perfect  symmetry. ' ' 

' '  I  will  leave  it  to  you,  dear  Annie,  to  teach  her  by 
precept,  and  still  more  forcibly  by  example,  the  truths 
of  which  you  speak.  You  teach  her  divine  things, 
while  I  tell  her  of  the  earthly." 

By  just  such  training  Lillian  was  reared,  the  prac- 


12 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


ticaljvisdom  and  excellent  judgment  of  her  aunt  coun- 
terbalancing the  admiring  enthusiasm  and  almost  idol- 
atrous affection  of  her  uncle,  whose  hopeful  nature 
forbade  him  to  see  anything  in  the  future  contrary  to 
his  wishes  and  expectations. 


LILLIAN  AND  GERALD 


13 


;  CHAPTER  II. 

LILLIAN  AND  GERALD. 

" Lillian,  do^you  mean  what  you  say?" 

"I  do,  Gerald,"  was  the  firm  reply.  "I  have  made 
my  decision  deliberately  and  shall  abide  by  it." 

A  deep  flush  spread  over  the  face  of  the  young  man, 
and  he  bit  his  lips  as  if  to  keep  back  the  angry  words 
which  rushed  to  them.  He  seized  the  back  of  a  chair 
near  him  with  a  fierce  grasp,  as  if  that  would  help  to 
give  him  the  self-control  for  which  he  strove.  He  was 
silent  for  several  minutes— -the  flush  passed  from  his 
face,  which  assumed  an  ashen  hue,  and  these  words 
came  with  forced  calmness  from  his  colorless  lips : 

"  You  have  decided,  then,  to  give  me  up  for  the  sake 
of  a  sickly  woman  who,  Dr.  Walker  himself  assures 
me,  will  live  but  a  few  months  at  farthest.  Do  you 
realize  what  a  sacrifice  you  are  making?  After  her 
death  you  will  be  a  friendless  orphan,  with  no  kindred 
to  care  for  you.  If  you  had  the  money  of  which  you 
expected  to  be  heiress  it  would  be  different,  for  it 
would  secure  you  friends,  and  by  it  you  could  retain 
your  station  in  society.  But  remember,  after  your 
aunt's  death  you  will  have  a  very  small  income— one 
that  will  be  very  inconvenient  to  one  of  your  luxuri- 
ous tastes  and  habits.  You  will  find  then  that  those 
who  courted  and  flattered  you  will  slight  and  scorn 
you  for  your  poverty.  Money  is  the  passport  to  soci- 
ety. I  have  studied  the  ways  of  the  world  and  found 
that  out ;  you  are  ignorant  of  this  truth  which  all  men 
of  observation  know.  I,  your  betrothed  husband  by 
your  own  consent  and  that  of  your  uncle,  have  been 
offered  and  accepted  a  position  which  promises  me 


14 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


wealth  in  a  few  years.  You  refuse  to  share  that  posi- 
tion with  me,  alleging  as  a  reason  your  duty  to  your 
aunt,  a  relative  only  in  name.  If  she  loved  you  as  she 
pretends,  she  would  be  unwilling  for  you  to  lose  such 
an  opportunity  to  redeem  the  fortune  you  have  lost. 
Many  an  own  mother  has  cheerfully  parted  with  her 
child  under  similar  circumstances,  realizing  it  would 
be  for  that  child's  future  good.  Why  should  she  be 
so  selfish— she  who  has  no  claim  on  you,  even  of  rela- 
tionship T" 

' '  Gerald,  you  wrong  Aunt  Annie.  She  has  no  idea 
of  your  accepting  the  position.  I  told  her  about  it  and 
she  asked  at  once  if  I  were  willing  to  go  with  you  to 
South  America.  When  I  assured  her  I  was  not,  she 
concluded  that  would  decide  you  against  going,  and 
added  that  young  men  with  talents  and  energy  could 
make  a  livelihood  here  just  as  well  as  in  other  coun- 
tries, to  the  climate  of  which  they  so  often  fall  vic- 
tims." 

"But  I  am  not  willing  to  plod  through  life  with  a 
mere  support.  I  do  not  propose  to  waste  my  best 
years  in  acquiring  a  competence  only.  I  mean  to  be 
rich.  I  can  never  be  satisfied  until  I  am  a  man  of 
wealth.  I  would  be  a  fool  not  to  avail  myself  of  so 
fine  an  opportunity  to  lay  the  foundation  of  wealth 
as  is  now  presented  to  me." 

"Very  well,"  his  companion  replied  quietly;  "you 
go  and  secure  your  fortune.  I  will  stay  at  home  with 
Aunt  Annie,  and  if  she  lives,  will  be  happy  without 
a  fortune." 

"But  remember,  Lillian,  I  will  not  be  back  in  five 
years-— perhaps  not  then." 

"Of  course  your  going  breaks  the  engagement  be- 
tween us,  and  your  return  will  depend  upon  your  own 
wishes  and  plans. ' ' 


LILLIAN  AND  GERALD  15 


"But,  Lillian,  you  belong  to  me.  Your  uncle  gave 
you  to  me." 

"Yes,  at  my  request,  and  then  on  condition  that  I 
was  not  to  marry  you  in  two  years.  That  time  has 
not  elapsed,  I  am  at  liberty  to  dissolve  our  engage- 
ment, which  I  now  do  by  returning  you  your  ring." 

The  young  man  was  evidently  unprepared  for  this 
result  to  his  interview.  He  had  expected  to  induce 
Lillian  to  accede  to  his  wishes  by  united  persuasion 
and  reasoning.  On  a  former  visit  he  had  endeavored 
to  persuade  her  to  marry  him  at  once  and  go  to  Rio 
Janeiro  with  hjjri.  He  had  been  offered  a  partnership 
in  the  wealthy  firm  with  which  he  was  connected  if 
he  would  go  to  South  America  and  attend  to  the  busi- 
ness in  which  the  firm  was  interested  there.  He 
thought  Lillian  very  blind  to  her  own  interests  to  re- 
fuse such  an  offer— -an  offer  which  his  vanity  induced 
him  to  think  almost  any  girl  would  have  accepted; 
any  girl,  at  least,  in  Lillian's  circumstances.  He  was 
really  vexed  at  what  he  termed  her  short-sighted  ob- 
stinacy. 

* 1  This  offer  to  break  our  engagement  is  only  to  test 
her  power  over  me,  and  I  wiil  show  my  independence. 
I  will  never  give  over  to  her,"  was  his  thought.  After 
a  pause,  during  which  he  mechanically  turned  the  ring 
she  had  placed  in  his  hand,  he  said: 

"But,  Lillian,  you  told  your  uncle  you  would  be 
miserable  if  you  did  not  marry  me.  Will  you  condemn 
yourself  to  a  lifetime  of  unhappiness  for  the  sake  of 
a  fancied  duty  to  your  aunt?  Will  she  allow  you  to 
make  such  a  sacrifice?" 

"Aunt  Annie  would  never  consent  to  my  taking  any 
step  for  her  sake  that  would  make  me  unhappy.  But 
I  don 't  think  I  will  be.  When  uncle  died,  the  sudden, 
crushing  blow  overwhelmed  me  with  the  deepest  grief. 
I  felt  that  I  would  never  be  happy  again.  His  loss  was 


16 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


the  first  great  sorrow  of  which  I  had  any  actual  knowl- 
edge, and  only  those  who  have  suffered  severe  bereave- 
ment know  how  they  crush  our  joys  and  blight  our 
hopes;  but  time  has  kindly  softened  even  that  great 
sorrow,  and  now  I  feel  that  life  has  yet  something  in 
store  for  me.  Yes,  much  as  I  loved  and  deeply  as  I 
still  grieve  for  my  dear  uncle,  still  there  is  something 
to  live  for.  If  you  leave  me  as  you  propose,  I  have 
faith  to  believe  in  time's  softening  effect.  I  shall  try 
to  be  happy  without  you,  and  think  I  shall  succeed. ' ' 

"You  have  ceased  to  love  me,  then?"  he  asked, 
bitterly.  "I  have  read  so  much  of  woman's  constancy 
I  had  begun  to  believe  it  a  reality,  but  I  find  now  that 
such  exists  only  in  the  imagination  of  the  novelist  or 
the  fancy  of  the  poet.  I  have  weighed  your  love  in 
the  balance  and  found  it  wanting.  I  have  tested  it  in . 
the  crucible  of  self-sacrifice  and  found  it  unable  to 
bear  the  test." 

1 1  Really,  Gerald,  I  do  not  think  you  can  reproach 
me  so  much,  for  if  I  have  given  you  up,  as  you  assert, 
for  Aunt  Annie,  none  the  less  are  you  willing  to  give 
me  up  for  money.  I  feel  unwilling  to  entrust  my  fu- 
ture to  anyone  who  does  not  evince  a  greater  love  for 
me  than  for  any  other  object.  If  you  disregard  my 
wishes  before  marriage,  you  will  be  less  likely  to  re- 
gard them  afterwards.  I  think  in  a  true  marriage 
each  party  readily  yields  to  the  reasonable  desires  of 
the  other.  Yes,  you  have  tested  my  love  and  revealed 
to  me,  as  well  as  to  yourself,  that  I  do  not  love  you 
unselfishly,  perhaps,  as  I  ought — as  devotedly  as  I  onee 
imagined  I  did.  Forgive  me,  Gerald,  if  I  give  you 
pain.  I  do  not  wish  to  wrong  you  in  any  way,  but  it 
is  best  to  be  candid  with  each  other  in  such  a  matter 
as  this.  I  am  of  the  opinion  now,  as  Uncle  always 
was,  that  what  I  imagined  to  be  love  was  only  a  ro- 
mantic girlish  fancy,  fostered  by  association.  I  think, 


LILLIAN  AND  GERALD  17 


too,  that  your  preference  for  me  was  the  same,  and 
that  absence  will  soon  convince  us  that  my  surmise 
is  the  correct  one. ' ' 

"No,  Lillian,  I  love  you  truly  and  never  so  well  as 
now,  when  I  am  about  to  lose  you.  You  have  deceived 
me.  You  have  won  my  love — my  first  love — and  now 
toss  it  away  as  carelessly  as  a  child  does  a  broken  toy. 
You  will  win  other  hearts  by  your  brilliant  beauty, 
but  beware !  The  coquette  breaks  many  hearts,  and  the 
last  broken  is  usually  her  own !  Mark  my  prediction, 
the  time  will  come  when  the  measure  you  are  meting 
to  me  will  be  measured  to  you  again— when  you  will 
love  as  I  do  and  your  love  will  be  as  little  valued  as 
mine  now  is.  You  seem  to  blame  me  for  going  away 
to  make  my  fortune,  as  if  I  did  not  propose  to  share 
that  fortune  with  you.  It  is  partly  for  your  sake  I 
want  to  be  rich  and  partly  to  fulfill  a  vow  I  made  when 
a  boy  that  I  would  be  a  rich  man.  I  will  give  you  a 
little  sketch  of  my  history  of  which  I  have  hitherto 
been  silent.  My  own  mother  died  when  I  was  ten 
years  old,  and  my  father  married  a  rich  widow,  with 
a  son  about  my  age.  It  was  a  good  chance  for  my 
father,  who  secured  a  life  of  luxurious  ease,  for  the 
widow  was  very  generous  towards  him.  Whether  for 
my  unconcealed  dislike  to  my  father  's  second  marriage 
or  from  some  other  cause,  from  the  first  time  she  saw 
me,  my  step-mother  seemed  to  be  prejudiced  against 
me.  For  the  first  few  months  she  seemed  to  ignore 
my  very  existence,  and  I  was  glad  it  was  so,  but  she 
must  have  seen  that  I  did  not  desire  her  notice  and 
determined  not  to  gratify  me  to  that  extent,  for  she 
soon  made  my  life  miserable  by  upbraiding  me  and 
taunting  me  with  my  poverty  and  dependence,  and 
oh !  how  it  stung  me,  proud,  sensitive  boy  as  I  was ! 
In  our  boyish  quarrels  her  son  was  always  in  the 
right,  and  if  I  beat  him,  as  I  often  did  if  he  angered 


18 


LILLIAN  DeVEEE 


me,  her  wrath  boiled  over  and  father  was  at  once  in- 
formed of  his  son's  terrible  conduct.  I  tried  to  bear 
my  fate  as  best  I  could,  hoping  to  get  a  good  educa- 
tion, which  I  knew  would  be  all  I  would  have  to  begin 
life.  I  finished  the  course  at  the  best  boys'  school  in 
the  city  in  which  we  lived.  I  then  asked  father  to 
send  me  to  a  commercial  college.  He  had  to  consult 
his  wife.  She  objected,  whereupon  a  fierce  quarrel 
ensued  between  us.  Father  took  her  side,  as  for  pol- 
icy's sake  he  always  did,  and  I  left  home,  vowing  that 
my  father  should  yet  be  proud  to  acknowledge  the  son 
he  was  willing  to  throw  out  upon  the  world.  The 
woman's  scornful  laugh  as  I  uttered  that  vow  rings 
in  my  ears  yet,  and  will  until  I  can  make  my  assertion 
true.  Now,  can  you  blame  me,  Lillian,  for  desiring 
to  be  a  rich  man  ? ' ' 

"I  am  not  going  to  blame  you,  Gerald,  for  doing 
what  you  think  will  contribute  to  your  happiness. 
You  have  set  your  heart  on  riches  and  will  never  be 
satisfied  until  you  shall  have  obtained  your  desire. 
While  I  do  not  undervalue  money,  at  the  same  time  I 
do  not  overrate  it,  as  I  think  many  people  do  who 
sacrifice  so  many  of  the  real  blessings  of  life  in  the 
pursuit  of  fortune,  and  when  it  is  secured,  find  to  their 
disappointment  and  sorrow  that  it  does  not  give  the 
happiness  they  expected." 

"I  have  heard  that  woman's  intuition  is  quicker 
than  man's;  that  she  could  see  more  readily  than  he 
what  is  for  the  best.  I  do  not  find  it  so  in  dealing 
with  you.  I  once  thought,  too,  woman  could  love  with 
more  tenderness  than  man,  but  that  beautiful  theory 
vanishes,  and  I  see  only  wilfulness,  unreasonableness 
and  coquetry." 

Lillian  felt  the  bitter  reproach  most  keenly,  but  she 
was  silent.  The  young  man  stepped  forward  and, 
extending  his  hand,  said  coldly: 


LILLIAN  AND  GERALD 


19 


"I  will  not  prolong  this  painful  interview,  which 
I  shall  try  to  forget.  If  you  think  better  of  what  I 
propose,  drop  me  a  line.   I  leave  Thursday. 

As  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  ceased,  his  companion 
began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  her  long  mourn- 
ing garments  trailing  behind  her,  and,  by  their  con- 
trast, increasing  the  regal  beauty  of  their  possessor. 
Suddenly  she  stopped  and  said  aloud  to  herself: 

"I  feel  that  I  have  done  right.  I  can  never  regret 
the  step.  Had  Gerald  been  as  noble  and  true  as  I 
thought  him,  he  would  never  have  wished  me  to  leave 
dear  Auntie,  stricken  with  sudden  sorrow  and  sick 
unto  death.  How  could  he,  when  she  has  been  as  a 
wise,  loving  mother  to  me?  I  shall  never  leave  her, 
and  may  God  give  me  grace  to  bear  the  blow  when  ahe 
shall  be  called  from  me." 

Then,  without  a  single  trace  of  emotion  upon  the 
sweet  face,  she  ascended  to  her  auntie's  bedside. 

It  was  the  same  home  before  alluded  to,  and  the  girl 
was  Lillian  De  Vere,  then  the  petted  child  of  fortune, 
now  developed  into  the  beautiful  woman  which  her 
lovely  childhood  had  promised.  Ten  years  have  passed 
and  brought  sad  changes  to  the  once  happy  home. 
Col.  De  Vere  had  died  suddenly  six  months  before.  He 
had  invested  almost  all  his  large  fortune  in  one  specu- 
lation, which  seemed  absolutely  certain  of  doubling 
the  amount  invested.  He  lost  all,  and  the  shock  caused 
his  death.  He  fell  dead  on  receiving  the  news.  Mrs. 
De  Vere's  health,  always  frail,  had  declined  rapidly 
after  her  husband 's  death,  and  her  end  was  approach- 
ing. 

Lillian  unselfishly  hid  away  the  sorrows  that  almost 
overwhelmed  her  and  most  untiringly  and  devotedly 
nursed  Auntie,  wt1io  now  in  her  sickness  and  bereave- 
ment so  much  relied  upon  her  for  care  and  comfort. 
Those  were  dark  days  indeed  to  the  beautiful  girl, 
whose  skies  had  hitherto  been  so  bright  and  sunny. 


20 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  III. 
auntie's  death. 

Gerald  Lemoine  had  for  several  years  been  Col.  De 
Vere 's  secretary.  He  had  come  to  him  highly  recom- 
mended by  the  faculty  of  the  commercial  school  of 
which  he  had  been  a  student.  When  questioned  about 
his  family  he  had  said  he  had  not  a  tie  in  the  world 
and  knew  no  one  in  the  city.  In  the  kindness  of  his 
heart  Col.  De  Vere  took  him  into  his  own  home,  and 
after  a  month's  trial  had  said  to  Mrs.  De  Vere: 

"Annie,  I  have  secured  a  prize  in  Lemoine.  He  has 
fine  business  talents  and  is  so  faithful  and  efficient. 
If  I  had  only  had  such  a  secretary  before,  I  should 
have  saved  myself  much  trouble  and  worry  in  the  last 
few  years.  I  can  trust  him,  too,  not  to  reveal  the  se- 
crets of  business,  for  he  is  as  stingy  with  his  words 
as  he  is  with  his  money.  I  have  never  seen  so  silent 
a  man.  You  notice  he  never  speaks  at  the  table  unless 
spoken  to,  and  never  speaks  in  the  office  except  on 
business. ?  9 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  De  Vere  replied,  "but  while  very  reti- 
cent himself,  I  notice  he  never  misses  a  word— I  think 
not  even  an  expression— of  those  about  him." 

\ i  Strange  enough,  Annie,  you  have  never  liked  him, 
though  you  are  usually  so  charitable  with  others ;  but  I 
>  think  him  a  most  estimable  young  man  and  a  most  ca- 
pable and  trustworthy  assistant." 

"I  hope  you  will  always  esteem  him  so,"  was  the 
reply,  with  a  doubt  implied  in  the  words.  Then  the 
good  woman  took  herself  to  task  for  being  so  preju- 
diced against  the  young  man  and  tried  by  extra  kind- 
ness to  atone  for  it.   Six  months  after  he  came  to  Col. 


AUNTIE'S  DEATH  21 


De  Vere's,  Lillian  returned  from  boarding  school  and 
at  once  became  a  favorite  in  society.  Her  brilliant 
beauty,  graceful  figure  and  sweet,  gentle  disposition, 
united  with  her  prospects  of  being  a  great  heiress, 
made  her  the  acknowledged  belle  of  the  season.  She 
had  some  of  the  most  eligible  offers,  not  only  in  the 
city  in  which  she  lived,  but  of  many  adjacent  cities. 
To  all  she  gave  a  kind  but  firm  refusal. 

"I  feel  that  I  belong  to  Uncle  and  Auntie,"  she 
said.  "I  cannot  leave  them."  After  she  had  been 
at  home  a  few  months  Col.  De  Vere  laughingly  said 
one  morning,  after  Lemoine  had  hurried  to  the  office : 
" Annie,  I  think  Lillian's  sunny  smiles  and  genial 
manner  have  melted  even  Gerald's  icy  nature.  He 
seems  to  enjoy  society  now  as  much  as  he  was  for- 
merly averse  to  it."  Lillian  looked  up  quickly  and 
said : 

' '  That  was  because  he  knew  no  girls  here,  Uncle,  be- 
fore I  came.  Now  he  is  acquainted  with  them,  he 
likes  them,  and  he  is  very  popular  with  them.  They 
think  him  handsome  and  he  is  a  graceful  dancer,  has 
a  fine  baritone  voice  and  is  a  brilliant  talker  when  he 
pleases  to  exert  himself." 

' 'Just  listen,  Annie,"  Col.  De  Vere  said.  "Our 
little  fairy,  with  her  magic  wand,  has  transformed 
the  misanthrope  into  society's  prince.  Here's  to  her 
health,  and  may  she  always  be  able  to  bend  everybody 
and  every  circumstance  to  her  own  sweet  will  in  her 
pathway  through  life." 

He  little  dreamed  in  what  way  ere  long  she  would 
wished  to  bend  him  to  her  will.  If  so,  his  laugh  as  he 
left  the  room  would  not  have  been  so  light.  Six  months 
afterwards  he  was  astounded  when  Lemoine  asked  Lil- 
lian's  hand  in  marriage.  He  had  never  thought  of 
such  a  consummation  and  was  not  pleased  with  it.  He 
liked  the  young  man  as  a  clerk,  but  not  as  Lillian's 


22 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


husband.  No,  no !  The  very  mention  of  such  a  thing 
almost  took  his  breath  away,  and  before  he  could  re- 
cover Lemoine  said,  in  the  coolest,  matter-of-fact  way : 
4 'You  seem  surprised/' 

"I  am  indeed  surprised,"  was  the  reply.  "You 
must  be  joking.  Surely  Lillian  has  not  given  you  tho 
right  to  make  such  a  request  of  me?" 

"Indeed  she  has.  We  have  plighted  our  mutual 
troth.  At  first  she  demurred  a  little  when  I  spoke  of 
mentioning  our  engagement  to  you,  but  when  I  con- 
vinced her  it  was  the  most  honorable  mode  and  was 
due  to  you  as  her  guardian,  she  withdrew  her  opposi- 
tion, and  I  await  your  reply." 

1 '  I  must  see  Lillian  before  I  give  you  an  answer, ' ' 
and  he  was  gone  without  another  word.  The  young 
man  bit  his  lip  and  an  angry  flush  mounted  to  his  fore- 
head, but  there  was  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  eye  and 
a  smile  of  satisfaction  upon  his  dark  face  as  he  said 
to  himself:  "Lillian,  in  her  pity  for  my  loneliness 
and  lovelessness,  will  plead  for  me  and  conquer  as  she 
always  does.  I  had  expected  to  have  to  climb  the  lad- 
der to  wealth  and  social  position  slowly,  but  lo  !  I 
have  scaled  it  at  one  bound.  I  have  secured  a  wealthy 
wife  and  one  of  beauty  as  well.  I  am  an  admirer  of 
beauty,  but  could  not  afford  the  luxury  of  a  penniless 
bride,  however  beautiful.  Gerald  Lemoine,  you  are  a 
lucky  dog  after  all !  'It  will  give  me  great  satisfaction 
to  send  to  my  stepmother  xne  account  of  my  marriage. 
I  can  imagine  how  it  will  read!  'The  talented  young 
secretary  to  the  lovely,  accomplished  Lillian  De  Vere, 
the  heiress  of  her  uncle's  immense  fortune.'  " 

Col.  De  Vere  yielded,  in  spite  of  his  better  judg- 
ment, to  Lillian's  pleading  when  he  urged  his  opposi- 
tion to  her  marriage  with  Lemoine. 

"Uncle,  he  has  no  one  but  me  to  love  him—no 
mother,  no  sister— and  my  love  can  brighten  and  beau- 


AUNTIE'S  DEATH 


23 


tify  Ills  life  and  encourage  him  to  rise  to  the  position 
in  the  world  which  his  talents  can  command.  Now, 
Uncle,  don't  make  us  both  unhappy  by  refusing  your 
consent,  which  we  both  so  much  desire. ' ' 

Col.  De  Vere  at  last  consented,  on  condition  that  the 
marriage  be  put  off  for  two  years,  and  if,  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  Lillian  still  desired  to  marry  the  young 
man,  he  would  allow  it,  but  would  never  be  willing  to 
it.  How  earnestly  he  hoped  that  something  would  oc- 
cur to  break  it  all  up,  little  dreaming  his  death  and 
loss  of  property  would  be  the  obstruction  in  the  way. 
But  so  it  was.  When  the  shock  of  her  uncle's  death 
and  auntie's  extreme  illness  almost  crushed  her  and 
she  looked  to  her  promised  husband  for  comfort  and 
support,  she  found  him  deploring  more  deeply  the 
loss  of  the  property  than  that  of  his  employer, 
and  when  he  received  the  appointment  to  South 
America,  he  seemed  utterly  to  disregard  all 
claims  her  aunt  had  upon  her,  and  when  urging 
her  to  go,  showed  only  the  pecuniary  advantages 
to  be  gained.  At  last  Lillian  was  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  man  she  had  made  the  hero  of  her 
girlish  romance  loved  money  and  his  plans  better  than 
anything  else,  even  herself.  It  was  hard  to  convince 
herself  of  this,  but  when  she  was  convinced,  the  scales 
fell  from  her  eyes  and  she  saw  that  what  she  thought 
was  love  on  her  part  was  only  pity,  which,  though 
akin  to  love,  is  not  love  itself.  This  pity  he  had 
aroused  by  playing  upon  the  chords  of  her  sympa- 
thetic nature.  Innocent  of  deceit  herself,  she  believed 
others  as  true  as  they  seemed. 

By  dint  of  manj^  questions  Mrs.  De  Vere  found  out 
how  matters  stood  between  Lillian  and  Gerald  after 
their  last  interview.  While  her  heart  sympathized 
with  the  girl  over  whose  bright  life  so  thick  a  pall  of 
sorrows  had  fallen,  yet  she  was  secretly  delighted  at 


24 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


the  termination  of  Lillian's  first  love  affair.  She  had 
been  as  much  opposed  to  its  consummation  as  Col.  De 
Vere  had  been,  but  deemed  it  wise  to  be  silent  in  re- 
gard to  it,  leaving  all  to  Col.  De  Vere's  judgment.  She 
had  suspected  Gerald  Lemoine's  sordid,  selfish  disposi- 
tion from  the  first,  and  as  she  watched  the  man  closely, 
felt  the  conviction  grow  upon  her  that  his  silent,  reti- 
cent nature  was  but  a  cloak  for  his  real  nature,  which 
was  sinister  and  mean.  It  was  almost  torture  to  her 
to  think  of  Lillian 's  giving  her  noble  womanhood,  with 
its  many  lovely  traits,  into  the  keeping  of  such  a  man. 
If  she  could  have  foreseen  her  darling's  future,  would 
she  not  have  chosen  even  that  fate  for  her,  rather  than 
that  which  was  in  store  for  her?  Ah,  surely.  What 
a  mercy  we  do  not  know  the  future !  If  we  could  know 
the  rugged  hill  we  have  to  climb,  could  see  in  advance 
the  bleeding  feet,  the  torn  hands,  the  aching  head,  the 
fainting  heart,  the  chasms  and  pitfalls  that  stand  in 
the  way  of  our  ascent,  could  we  ever  find  courage  to 
start  up,  though  the  hill  was  crowned  with  the  city  of 
God,  and  the  Sun  of  righteousness  shed  His  blessed 
sunlight  on  the  way?   I  trow  not. 

When  fully  assured  the  affair  was  at  an  end,  and 
Lillian  was  not  unhappy  on  account  of  it,  Auntie  con- 
fided the  story  to  her  widowed  sister,  Mrs.  Stafford, 
who  had  come  from  her  home  in  a  distant  state  to  be 
with  her  in  her  last  moments.  A  few  days  before  her 
death  she  put  her  hand  on  Lillian's  head  as  she  knelt 
by  her  bedside  and  said : 

"My  darling,  do  not  grieve  so  over  my  leaving  you. 
I  do  not  dread  death,  for  my  Shepherd  will  go  with 
me  through  the  valley  and  dissipate  the  shadow,  and 
I  fear  no  evil  with  Him  as  a  guide.  Sometimes  I  fancy 
I  hear  the  voices  on  the  other  side  softly  calling  me 
to  come  over  and  be  at  rest.  I  have  more  loved  ones 
who  have  gone  before  than  on  this  side.   Alice  is  sole 


AUNTIE'S  DEATH 


25 


representative  of  our  family  left,  and  you  are,  so  far 
as  we  know,  the  only  one  left  of  your  father's  or 
mother's  family.  Alice  has  promised  to  love  and  care 
for  you  as  I  have  done  and  you  will  bless  and  comfort 
her  with  the  sweet  affection  that  has  been  one  of  my 
greatest  pleasures.  How  richly  has  the  promise  been 
fulfilled  to  me,  'Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  and 
thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days.'  From  the  mo- 
ment you  first  put  your  sweet  baby  arms  around  my 
neck  and  laid  your  soft,  velvety  cheek  to  mine  and 
lisped  in  sweetest  baby  tones, '  Auntie,  I  love  you,'  you 
have  been  as  dear  to  me  as  if  you  had  been  my  own, 
and  I  have  watched  your  growth  to  womanhood  with 
a  pride  almost  equal  to  that  of  your  uncle,  whose  one 
aim  in  life  was  your  happiness  and  welfare." 

Putting  Lillian's  hand  in  that  of  Mrs.  Stafford 
she  said,  solemnly: 

"My  dear  Alice,  I  give  Lillian  into  your  care.  Be 
a  mother  to  her  when  I  am  gone. ' ' 


26 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MOSS  SIDE. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  the  present  date 
of  our  story  Moss  Side  was  a  lovely  old  country  place. 
It  was  the  home  of  Mr.  Duncan,  his  charming  wife, 
and  two  beautiful  daughters,  Annie  and  Alice.  It 
Was  a  large  white  building,  with  green  blinds  and 
porches  on  all  sides,  allowing  you  to  court  or  avoid 
the  sun  at  will,  and  from  which  you  could  always 
get  a  view  of  the  river,  here  a  noble  stream,  so  broad 
and  deep  it  could  carry  vessels  of  large  tonnage  on  its 
bosom.  The  house  was  built  on  a  slight  rise,  sloping 
gradually  to  the  country  road  which  ran  parallel  to 
the  river.  This  slope  was  a  velvety  lawn,  in  which  a 
few  noble  trees  had  been  allowed  to  stand.  Under 
these  were  rustic  seats,  inviting  you  to  rest  and  enjoy 
the  scene,  ever  an  attractive  one  to  a  lover  of  rural 
beauty.  There  was  an  enclosed  yard,  in  which  the 
choicest  flowers  grew  luxuriantly.  Climbing  vines  in 
summer  almost  hid  the  front  porch  and  roses  grew 
everywhere.  In  winter  a  conservatory  on  the  south 
side  furnished  brightness  and  bloom  enough  to  com- 
pensate for  the  loss  made  by  the  winter  king.  Inside 
everything  denoted  wealth  and  taste.  Every  room 
was  the  very  embodiment  of  comfort  and  ease.  All 
the  rooms  on  one  side  of  the  wide  hall  above  and  below 
were  furnished  with  old  furniture.  Much  of  it  had 
been  heirlooms  in  the  family  for  many  generations; 
some  had  been  new  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duncan  were 
married ;  every  piece  was  endeared  to  them  and  price- 
less on  account  of  the  sweet  associations  that  clus- 
tered around  it.   Old  portraits,  the  features  of  which 


MOSS  SIDE 


27 


had  been  almost  obliterated  by  time's  ravages,  were 
.  fresh  as  ever  in  the  memory  of  the  loved  ones  who 
gazed  upon  them  with  fondest  affection ;  old  pictures, 
old  vases  in  silver  and  glass,  and  old  chairs  that  grand- 
ma and  grandpa  had  sat  on,  old  couches  that  were  the 
synonyms  of  comfort,  old  curtains  that  were  still  ele- 
gant—everything old  but  tasteful  made  mamma's  and 
papa's  rooms  the  dearest,  sweetest  place  in  the  world 
to  the  two  girls,  who  were  devotedly  attached  to  their 
parents.  The  old  organ  that  had  been  Mrs.  Duncan's 
when  a  girl  had  still  a  sweet,  pure  tone  and  sounded 
better  to  Mr.  Duncan  when  touched  by  the  hand  he 
loved  so  well  than  the  line  new  piano  in  the  girls' 
parlor,  and  nothing  gave  him  greater  pleasure  than 
to  sing  with  Mrs.  Duncan  the  favorite  hymns  and 
songs  of  "auld  lang  syne,"  and  the  young  people  were 
always  delighted  to  get  them  to  sing.  Mrs  Dun- 
can played  the  accompaniment^  and  her  husband  stood 
by  assisting  her  and  turning  the  leaves,  as  he  had  done 
when  she  was  a  blithe  girl  and  his  first  and  only  love. 

The  west  side  of  the  house  was  furnished  in  the  most 
modern  and  tasteful  style  of  the  day.  Everything  was 
fresh  and  bright,  like  the  sweet  young  lives  who 
claimed  this  side  of  the  house  as  their  special  domain. 
In  the  dining  room,  a  large,  airy  room  at  the  end  of 
the  hall,  the  old  and  new  were  beautifully  blended. 
The  tea  set  of  quaint  design  which  had  supplied  many 
generations  with  the  fragrant  beverage,  the  china  that 
seemed  to  retain  some  intangible  evidence  of  by-gone 
days  and  people— to  speak,  as  it  were,  of  lips  that  had 
touched  it,  of  hands  that  had  held  it— the  costly  cut- 
glass  of  unique  pattern,  all  with  the  dignity  of  age, 
appeared  to  smile  in  contempt  at  their  neighbors,  the 
more  shining  articles  of  use  and  ornament  which  lav- 
ishly adorned  the  room,  but  together  they  made  a  fine 


28  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


effect,  like  a  choice  picture,  of  age  and  joyous  youth. 
Sj[rs.  Duncan  used  to  say: 

"We  want  the  girls  to  have  everything  to  make 
them  happy  in  the  present,  for  young  people  live  in 
the  present,  while  we  old  people  find  our  greatest 
pleasure  in  reviewing  the  past." 

'Yet  two  more  delightful  old  people  than  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Duncan  could  not  be  found.  They  were  kind 
and  hospitable,  extending  a  hearty  welcome  to  all  who 
deserved  it,  entering  into  the  enjoyment  of  the  young 
people  with  zest  and  abetting  them  in  every  innocent 
pleasure.  This  made  Moss  Side  the  social  center  of 
attraction  in  that  entire  community.  In  a  word,  Moss 
Side  was  an  ideal  country  home.  The  river  was  a 
source  of  endless  pleasure  to  the  two  girls,  who  had 
been  reared  on  its  banks  and  loved  nothing  better  than 
a  row  upon  its  waters.  If  there  was  no  one  else  handy, 
Alice,  buoyant  with  health  and  youth,  would  herself 
seize  the  oars  and  give  Annie  a  ride,  often  accompany- 
ing the  strokes  of  the  oars  with  a  boating  song  which 
floated  over  the  waters  and  cheered  all  who  heard  it. 
Randolph  Hall,  universally  conceded  to  be  the  oldest 
and  most  beautiful  country  seat  in  the  state,  was  two 
miles  distant.  The  family  of  the  Hall  consisted  of  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Nelson  and  their  two  children,  Sydney  Nel- 
son and  Marguerite,  usually  called  Margie.  There 
had  always  been  great  intimacy  between  the  families 
at  the  Hall  and  Moss  Side.  The  girls  had  gone  to 
school  together  at  home,  and  at  the  same  boarding 
school  had  been  roommates  and  classmates,  which  had 
cemented  their  friendship.  Scarcely  a  day  passed 
without  some  communication  between  the  members  of 
the  two  families.  The  first  break  in  the  happiness  of 
the  two  homes  occurred  when  a  handsome  young 
French  gentleman  came  to  the  neighborhood  to  hunt 
and  fish.    He  met  fair  Annie  Duncan,  and  after  a 


MOSS  SIDE  29 


year's  courtship,  wooed  and  won  her,  taking  her  to  his 
own  far-off  city  home.  Sydney  Nelson  had  long  loved 
the  gentle  girl  and  only  waited  to  finish  his  medical 
education  to  ask  her  to  become  his  wife.  He  comforted 
himself,  however,  by  bringing  home  with  him  after 
his  graduation  a  beautiful  girl  of  French  extraction, 
Elise  Devereux.  For  several  years  after  her  marriage 
Annie  paid  a  yearly  visit  to  the  old  home.  On  her 
return  from  one  of  these  visits  the  train  was  wrecked, 
and  though  she  received  no  external  injury,  she  was 
never  well  afterwards,  the  shock  having  caused  ner- 
vous prostration.  Even  the  shriek  of  the  locomotive 
unnerved  her,  and  she  could  never  afterwards  endure 
the  thought  of  traveling,  but  she  cheered  the  loved 
ones  at  home  by  long,  bright  letters  every  week,  in 
which  she  always  spoke  of  the  lovely  child  they  had 
adopted  as  their  own.  After  a  few  years  Alice  mar- 
ried a  Mr.  Stafford,  a  merchant  of  the  nearest  city. 
The  old  couple  gave  their  consent  only  on  condition 
that  Alice  should  not  leave  them,  and  arrangements 
were  made  by  which  Mr.  Stafford  could  go  to  his  busi- 
ness and  return  every  day.  The  cars  going  to  the  city 
passed  the  little  town  of  Melton,  three  miles  distant, 
and  returned  at  dark.  For  ten  years  there  were  few 
changes  in  the  two  homes  save  what  time  naturally 
makes.  Then  a  malignant  fever  broke  out  in  the 
neighborhood,  carrying  off  with  one  fell  stroke  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Nelson  and  the  lovely  Margie.  At  Moss  Side 
it  was  equally  fatal.  Mr.  Stafford  and  his  three  bright, 
beautiful  children  fell  victims  to  it.  Alice  bore  the 
severe  blow  bravely  for  the  sake  of  her  parents,  who 
seemed  crushed  by  so  many  sad  afflictions  falling  upon 
them.  They  missed  the  sweet  young  lives  that  had 
wound  themselves  so  closely  around  their  affections  and 
they  mourned  Mr.  Stafford  as  if  he  had  been  their  own 
son,  for  as  such  he  had  been  to  them.   They  mourned 


30 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


most  of  all  for  their  beloved  daughter,  whose  hopes 
had  been  so  suddenly  crushed.  They  never  rallied 
from  the  shock.  Mr.  Duncan  died  a  few  years  after 
from  heart  disease,  and  in  two  more  years  Mrs.  Duncan 
followed  him.  Alice  was  left  alone  in  the  old  home. 
Col.  De  Vere  tried  in  vain  to  get  her  to  come  to  his 
home,  urging  Annie 's  feeble  health  as  an  incentive,  but 
she  preferred  to  stay  in  the  home  of  her  birth  to  which 
so  many  pleasant  as  well  as  sad  associations  attached 
her.  She  remained  in  the  house  with  the  housekeeper 
and  a  few  trusty  servants.  The  manager  of  the  estate 
lived  sufficiently  near  by  for  protection. 

She  was  preparing  to  make  Mrs.  De  Vere  an  ex- 
tended visit  when  the  news  of  Col.  De  Vere's  sudden 
death  reached  her.  She  hurried  at  once  to  her  sister's 
bedside,  which  she  never  left  until  the  beloved  wife 
was  laid  by  her  husband's  side  and  a  handsome  monu- 
ment had  been  erected  to  their  memory.  From  her  sis- 
ter ?s  letters  she  had  expected  to  find  Lillian  a  beautiful 
girl,  but  she  was  unprepared  for  the  vision  of  almost 
perfect  loveliness  that  threw  her  arms  lovingly  around 
her  at  first  sight  and  called  her  "Aunt  Alice"  in  a 
voice  so  sweet  it  won  her  heart  at  once,  and  when  in 
after  days  she  studied  her  and  found  her  to  possess 
a  disposition  in  perfect  accord  with  her  lovely  features 
she  gladly  accepted  the  guardianship  of  the  young 
girl.  Like  Mrs.  De  Vere,  she  was  much  relieved  when 
Lillian  voluntarily  gave  up  Gerald  Lemoine  and  in- 
stead gave  herself  into  her  future  keeping.  She  had 
once  said  to  her  sister : 

"Annie,  I  used  to  smile  at  your  description  of  Lil- 
lian, for  I  knew  everybody  you  loved  fondly  was  beau- 
tiful in  your  eyes,  but  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  the 
half  has  not  been  told,  What  a  sensation  she  will  pro- 
duce in  our  quiet  little  world!'7 


WALTER  BRUNETTE  31 


CHAPTER  V. 

WALTER  BRUNETTE. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  a  bright  summer  day.  There 
was  a  larger  number  of  loungers  than  usual  at  the 
little  station  of  Melton  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
evening  train  and  there  was  the  usual  stir  and  bustle 
when  the  prolonged  whistle  and  black  smoke  indicated 
its  approach.  A  very  handsome  young  man  stood  near 
the  reception  room,  listlessly  watching  the  arrivals 
as  they  issued  from  the  train.  The  last  to  get  off  were 
two  ladies  dressed  in  deep  mourning.  One  was  of  mid- 
dle age.  with  a  sad,  sweet  expression  on  her  fine  face; 
the  other  was  a  young  girl,  from  whose  face  the  long 
veil  was  thrown,  revealing  its  exquisite  loveliness.  At 
sight  of  that  face  the  young  man's  listlessness  was 
gone  and  he  exclaimed  to  himself : 

"By  Jove!  What  a  beauty!  A  perfect  Hebe !  A 
Helen  of  Troy— a  Cleopatra— -a— a—  "  He  stopped 
short  as  if  he  found  words  inadequate  for  a  suitable 
comparison.  "Who  can  it  be?  Ah,  she  is  with  Mrs. 
Stafford.   I  shall  find  out  if  I  lose  my  head  for  it. ' ' 

A  few  minutes  later  he  was  greeting  Mrs.  Stafford 
with  unusual  cordiality  and  was  acknowledging  with 
a  graceful  bow  an  introduction  to  Miss  Lillian  De 
Yere.  When  the  girl  raised  her  beautiful  eyes  to  his 
she  encountered  such  a  look  of  undisguised  admiration 
a  slight  blush  suffused  her  cheek,  increasing,  if  pos- 
sible, her  peerless  beauty.  So,  at  least,  the  young  man 
thought. 

He  accompanied  thew  to  the  carriage  in  waiting 
and  asked  and  received  permission  for  an  early  visit. 
For  a  while  Mrs.  Stafford  seemed  lost  in  a  painful  rev-. 


32 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


erie  as  the  familiar  scenes  passed  before  her,  but  she 
was  soon  aroused  by  Lillian's  exclamations  of  delight 
at  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  every  bend  in  the  road 
presenting  fine  panoramic  views  of  the  river  and  wood- 
land, keenly  appreciated  by  Lillian,  whose  nature  was 
sensitive  to  everything  beautiful  in  nature  or  art. 
When  the  next  day  Aunt  Alice  took  her  over  Moss 
Side  and  she  reveled  in  its  many  attractions,  she 
said : 

'  6  Aunt  Alice,  I  do  not  wonder  you  and  Auntie  loved 
your  home  so  much ;  it  is  the  sweetest  place,  the  most 
homelike,  I  ever  saw,  and  I  know  I  shall  be  very  happy 
here.  I  am  not  surprised  that  the  tears  should  well  up 
in  Auntie 's  eyes  sometimes  when  she  talked  of  her  old 
home  and  home  joys." 

The  next  evening  as  they  drove  along  the  river  road 
in  Aunt  Alice's  pony  phaeton,  Lillian  taking  her  first 
lesson  in  driving,  she  suddenly  asked : 

i  4  Aunt  Alice,  who  is  that  Mr.  Brunette  to  whom  you 
introduced  me  yesterday?  As  he  was  my  first  ac- 
quaintance here,  I  am  somewhat  interested  in  him." 

Mrs.  Stafford  replied: 

"His  name  is  Walter  Brunette.  He  lives  with  his 
mother  at  a  fine  old  place  called  Cuckoo's  Nest,  on  the 
river  bank,  about  two  miles  from  Moss  Side.  He  is  the 
only  child  of  his  mother,  and  she  is  a  widow.  His 
father,  one  of  the  noblest  and  best  of  men,  died  when 
Walter  was  but  three  years  old.  Mr.  Brunette  was 
fond  of  society  and  during  his  life  entertained  his 
friends  handsomely.  He  was  a  friend  of  my  husband, 
and  while  he  lived  we  were  frequently  guests  at  his 
home.  Since  his  death  his  wife  has  been  averse  to  so- 
ciety, and  when  at  home  lives  a  secluded  life.  Mr. 
Brunette  left  Walter  a  handsome  fortune,  of  which 
he  came  in  possession  at  his  majority  two  years  ago. 
Besides,  his  mother  has  wealth  which  will  eventually 


WALTER  BRUNETTE 


33 


be  his.  He  has  fine  prospects  for  the  future.  I  think 
he  inherited  some  of  his  father's  good  qualities,  which, 
by  judicious  training,  would  have  made  him  as  fine  a 
specimen  of  manhood  morally  as  he  is  physically.  I 
do  not  know  a  handsomer,  finer-looking  man,  but  from 
infancy  he  was  so  indulged  that  at  five  years  of  age 
his  will  was  the  law  of  his  mother's  household.  No 
one  dared  to  oppose  him  nor  to  reprove  him  about  any- 
thing. Even  at  that  early  age  he  was  a  terror  to  the 
servants.  When  he  became  old  enough  to  study  his 
mother  engaged  the  best  known  teachers  for  him,  but 
none  of  them  could  stand  him  long.  When  he  became 
ten  years  old  his  mother  took  him  off  to  some  large  city 
for  superior  educational  advantages.  They  did  not 
return  until  Walter  attained  his  majority.  A  report 
came  during  her  absence  that  Mrs.  Brunette  had  mar- 
ried again.  It  must  have  been  a  mistake,  as  I  have 
lately  heard  nothing  about  it,  and  she  still  has  her 
former  name.  I  have  seen  very  little  of  Walter  since 
he  returned.  Rumor  says  he  is  engaged,  with  his 
mother's  consent,  to  a  Miss  Evelyn  B^rown,  a  first 
cousin,  and  heiress  to  quite  a  little  fortune.  She  came 
back  with  them  and  stayed  some  time,  but  I  believe 
she  has  returned  home  now,  it  is  said  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  her  marriage  in  the  fall.  I  saw  her  once. 
She  is  a  pretty  little  brunette.  I  tell  you  this  that  you 
may  not  give  your  heart  to  Walter  Brunette,  for  if 
there  was  no  cousin  in  the  way,  though  he  is  handsome, 
accomplished  and  wealthy,  still  I  would  not  be  willing 
to  give  you  to  him,  for  men  reared  in  self-indulgence 
as  he  was,  never  make  good,  kind  husbands.  They  are 
selfish,  self-willed  and  exacting.  His  mother  was  never 
popular.  Proud,  scornful,  imperious  and  high-tem- 
pered, she  was  not  much  regretted  when  she  withdrew 
from  society  and  announced  her  intention  of  devoting 


34 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


herself  exclusively  to  the  rearing  of  her  child,  whom 
she  loves  idolatrously . ' ' 

"Does  her  son  return  this  devotion  ?"  Lillian  asked. 

"I  do  not  know  in  this  particular  instance,  but  it 
most  frequently  happens  that  the  mothers  who  make 
slaves  of  themselves  for  their  children  lose  the  love 
and  even  respect  of  those  for  whom  they  sacrifice  them- 
selves. I  doubt  if  Walter  Brunette  is  an  exception  to 
the  rule.  I  assuredly  would  not  have  you  stand  in  the 
way  of  Fannie  Brunette's  wishes.  The  family  on  her 
side,  I  have  heard,  are  so  self-willed  they  never  give  up 
anything  they  undertake,  but  pursue  it  in  the  face  of 
opposition  that  would  deter  others,  even  the  most  de- 
termined. Walter  Brunette  may  try  to  flirt  with  you, 
or  if  he  so  will,  may  give  up  the  other  love  for  you.  In 
either  case,  beware. ' ' 

"  Forewarned,  forearmed/ '  was  the  laughing  re- 
joinder. 

A  few  days  after  this  Walter  Brunette  called  to  see 
Lillian  and  was  afterwards  a  frequent  visitor  at  Moss 
Side.  He  soon  became  Lillian's  constant  companion 
in  her  rides  on  land  and  water.  Aunt  Alice  had  given 
her  a  beautiful  black  pony,  which  she  had  named 
"Cloud,"  and  often  when  she  started  out  alone,  Wal- 
ter Brunette  would  meet  her  or  overtake  her,  and  thus 
accidentally  as  it  seemed,  become  her  escort. 

Mrs.  Stafford  viewed  this  state  of  affairs  with  un- 
easiness and  often  spoke  to  Lillian  about  it,  who  tried 
in  vain  to  show  her  indifference  to  the  young  man's 
society  without  absolute  rudeness. 

"Do  not  anger  him,  Lillian,"  Aunt  Alice  would 
say.  ' '  He  is  a  man  whose  ill-will  I  would  be  sorry  for 
you  to  get.  Treat  him  politely,  but  let  him  know  you 
can  be  only  a  friend.   If  he  is  trying  to  flirt  with  you 


WALTER  BRUNETTE 


35 


it  will  be  your  safeguard.  If  he  loves  you  he  cannot 
blame  you  if  you  refuse  him." 

Acting  on  this  advice  Lillian  avoided  the  young  man 
in  every  way  possible,  declining  to  accompany  him 
as  often  as  she  dared,  and  still  he  came,  almost  daily, 
singing  lqye  songs  to  her  in  his  fine  baritone  voice, 
reading  to  her  love  scenes  in  the  most  impressive  man- 
ner. He  was  a  fine  reader,  and  sometimes  she  listened 
almost  entranced  as  he  made  the  words  of  impassioned 
love  his  own  and  gazed  into  her  eyes,  beaming  with 
interest,  with  a  look  that  frightened  her.  Then  she 
would  say,  as  carelessly  as  she  could: 

" Don't  read  any  more.  It  is  too  lovesick— too  un- 
real. Who  ever  heard  of  people  of  ordinary  common 
sense  talking  so  much  nonsense  ?" 

Then  he  would  say,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with 
emotion : 

"  You  do  not  believe  what  you  say.  You  know  love 
is  real— the  grandest  passion  of  life.  Without  it  hu- 
manity would  be  little  above  the  brutes,  while  we  have 
been  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  by  means  of 
this  emotion  that  permeates  our  being  and  proclaims 
the  divinity  within  us." 

"We  will  not  discuss  the  question  further,"  Lillian 
would  say,  with  a  light  laugh,  disguising  her  own  feel- 
ings that  she  might  not  encourage  him  in  the  love  she 
was  afraid  he  was  beginning  to  feel  for  her.  Finally 
she  declined  going  with  him  anywhere  and  persuaded 
Aunt  Alice  to  be  present  in  all  their  interviews  at 
home.  On  one  occasion,  as  they  sat  in  the  front  porch 
one  lovely  moonlight  night,  Mrs.  Stafford  spoke  of 
Miss  Brown,  and  then  significantly  asked  Mr.  Brunette 
when  he  was  going  to  bring  her  home  for  a  permanent 
stay,  as  Madame  Rumor  said  he  would.  A  slight 
frown  contracted  his  brow,  but  his  voice  was  very 
steady  and  his  manner  cool  as  3ae  answered : 


36 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


1  'My  cousin  will  not  make  her  permanent  home  with 
us  until  the  death  of  her  father.  If  that  should  occur 
she  might  come  to  live  with  us,  as  we  are  her  nearest 
relatives.' 9 

"We  have  been  misinformed,  then,  in  regard  to 
your  early  marriage  with  your  cousin  ? ' '  Mrs.  Stafford 
asked. 

"It  is  altogether  a  mistake/'  was  the  firm  answer. 

Nothing  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  but  Lillian 
felt  a  sinking  of  the  heart  for  which  she  could  not  ac- 
count—a presentiment  of  coming  evil.  Was  it  be- 
cause of  Walter  Brunette 's  words  ?  Why  should  they 
affect  her  thus? 


RANDOLPH  HALL 


37 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RANDOLPH  HALL. 

Randolph  Hall  was  built  more  than  a  century  before 
Dr.  Nelson's  time,  by  a  wealthy  and  eccentric  ancestor, 
who  expressed  his  intention  to  build  a  house  and  pre- 
pare a  home  of  which  future  generations  should  be 
justly  proud.   Accordingly  he  selected  the  site  on  an 
eminence  overlooking  the  river  and  employed  the  most 
skilled  architects  to  carry  out  his  design.  No  expense 
nor  pains  were  spared  to  make  it  what  he  desired,  and 
Randolph  Hall  was  the  result.   It  was  built  of  dark 
stone,  with  steps  of  the  same  substantial  material, 
while  the  stately  columns,  cornices  and  window  fac- 
ings were  of  dark  gray  marble,  highly  polished.  The 
interior  corresponded  in  every  way  with  the  grandeur 
of  the  exterior.   The  rooms  were  large  and  the  ceilings 
most  beautifully  frescoed.    The  furniture  was  mas- 
sive and  elegant,  the  carpets  and  draperies  costly  and 
of  exquisite  design.    The  walls  were  covered  with 
paintings,  rare  gems  of  art,  and  statues,  urns,  vases, 
and  busts  of  great  value  adorned  the  rooms.  Mirrors, 
of  which  the  old  squire  was  very  fond,  reached  from 
ceiling  to  floor,  repeating  the  beauty  of  their  sur- 
roundings.  There  were  libraries  of  choice  books  and 
musical  instruments  of  many  kinds,  for  the  old  gen- 
tleman claimed  to  be  a  musician,  and  no  one  contra- 
dicted his  claim.    The  grounds  were  extensive  and 
tastefuly  laid  out.  His  flowers,  most  of  them  rare  ex- 
otics, were  his  special  pride.   They  grew  in  great  pro- 
fusion in  the  ground  in  summer  and  were  as  beauti- 
ful, if  less  luxuriant,  in  conservatories  in  winter. 
Into  this  fine  cage  the  old  squire  brought  his  bird, 


38 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


a  fair  young  bride,  though  he  was  past  fifty.  His 
bride's  maiden  name  was  Randolph  and  he  named 
their  home  in  her  honor.  Only  one  child,  a  son,  was 
born  of  this  union,  and  strangely  enough,  but  one 
child,  and  that  the  eldest  son  of  each  succeeding  gen- 
eration, had  lived  to  attain  his  majority.  Other  chil- 
dren, girls  and  boys,  had  been  born  into_  the  families, 
but  none  of  them  lived  to  full  manhood  or  woman- 
hood. Superstitious  people  said  this  was  a  curse  which 
had  come  upon  the  family  because  the  old  squire,  the 
original  owner  of  the  hall,  had  been  accustomed  to 
say,  "More  than  one  child  in  a  family,  and  that  a  son. 
is  a  nuisance,"  Physicians  said  the  eldest  sons  of  the 
family  had  inherited  the  strong,  sturdy  nature  of  the 
Nelsons,  while  the  others  had  taken  the  more  delicate 
organization  of  the  mother.  Dr.  Nelson  had  been  a 
lineal  descendant  of  Squire  Nelson  and  had,  after 
Margie 's  death,  been  the  sole  survivor  and  heir  of  the 
Hall  and  estate.  When  he  had  brought  beautiful  Elise 
Devereux  to  the  Hall  as  his  bride,  she  had  said  she 
loved  bright  modern  suroundings  rather  than  the 
musty  old  things  of  past  grandeur.  After  his  pa- 
rents' death,  Dr.  Nelson,  to  please  her,  had  the  Hall 
modernized  and  beautified.  Bay  windows  and  ve- 
randas were  added,  a  turret  which  commanded  a  fine 
view  of  the  river  and  adjacent  country  crowned  the 
building.  All  the  rooms  Elise  occupied  were  refur- 
nished and  a  large  retinue  of  servants  employed.  These 
improvements,  which  added  greatly  to  the  architec- 
tural beauty  of  the  building,  cost  a  large  smn  of 
money,  but  Elise  had  been  reared  by  a  brother  many 
years  her  senior,  who  had  indulged  her  every  wish. 
Her  husband  must  continue  to  gratify  her  desires,  01; 
she  might  become  unhappy.  The  old  squire  had  left 
a  large  estate  and  income,  but  succeeding  generations 
had  gradually  depleted  the  coffers,  and  when  Dr.  Nel- 


RANDOLPH  HALL 


39 


son  came  into  possession  of  the  property  there  wa§ 
not  enough  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  his  wife  and 
the  expenses  of  the  style  in  which  she  delighted,  so  the 
Hall  had  to  be  mortgaged,  and  now  Robert  Nelson,  the 
present  owner,  found  himself,  on  coming  of  age,  in 
debt.  His  father  had  told  him  something  of  his  em* 
barrassment  and  had  advised  him  after  finishing  his 
education  to  return  to  the  Hall  and  try  by  good  man- 
agement to  redeem  his  estate.  Robert  Nelson,  while  he 
possessed  a  tall,  slender  figure  and  had  a  pale,  intel- 
lectual cast  of  countenance,  with  small,  clear-cut  fea- 
tures, was  nevertheless  of  a  strong,  healthy  constitu- 
tion, enjoying  almost  perfect  health.  Helen,  as  if  in 
obedience  to  the  fatality  that  had  attended  the  preced- 
ing families  of  her  father's  race,  was  very  frail  and 
delicate.  The  members  of  the  family  had  as  time 
went  by  become  sensitive  over  this  fatality,  and  Dr. 
Nelson  especially  so.  He  had  reared  Helen  with  the 
greatest  care.  He  was  proud  of  his  noble,  talented  son, 
a  worthy  representative  of  his  race;  but  Helen  was 
the  object  of  his  tenderest  affections.  She  was  so  lov- 
ing, so  gentle  in  her  nature,  she  endeared  everyone 
to  her.  Once  when  her  father  unconsciously  showed 
his  anxiety  for  her  health  she  had  said,  laughingly: 
'Papa,  you  rear  me  as  a  hothouse  plant.  Why  not 
let  me  take  the  weather  as  it  comes  and  become  a  hardy 
annual  ? ' ' 

"Not  like  a  hothouse  plant,  my  dear,  but  like  a  rare 
exotic,  that  we  shield  carefully  from  the  cold  and 
frost,  ere  it  has  rooted,  lest  it  wither  under  the  rude 
blasts.  By  our  care  we  show  our  love  for  it. ' ' 

"Rare  exotic,  indeed,  papa!  Nothing  but  a  very 
commonplace  little  country  flower ! ' '  she  had  said,  with 
a  loving  smile.  She  had  quiet  tastes,  loved  books  and 
was  passionately  fond  of  music— was  a  fine  pianist  ancl 


40  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


had  a  low,  sweet  voice,  which  gave  pleasure  to  all  who 
heard  her  sing.  Her  father  never  tired  of  hearing  her 
sing  his  favorite  hymns  and  ballads.  Robert  was 
eighteen  and  Helen  fifteen  years  old  when  Dr.  Nelson 
died.  Mrs.  Nelson  had  died  several  years  before.  Di\ 
Nelson  had  grieved  to  leave  Helen  more  than  anything 
else.  He  had  said:  4 6 Robert  is  strong  and  self-reliant. 
He  can  battle  with  life's  trials,  but  who  can  care  for 
my  darling  Helen  as  her  father  has  done?" 

Before  he  died  he  commended  Helen  to  Robert's 
special  care,  saying: 

'kI  have  seen,  with  much  satisfaction,  the  deep  af- 
fection between  you,  and  can  trust  you  to  shield  her 
from  every  shock,  every  care,  every  sorrow.  The  slen- 
der thread  of  her  life  is  verv  brittle."    Helen  was 

«/ 

now  eighteen  years  old.  Few  of  the  family  had 
reached  that  age,  but  the  old  people  who  believed  in 
the  superstition  shook  their  heads  and  said  her  time 
was  coming.  Care  might  prolong  her  life  awhile, 
but  it  could  not  avert  the  fate  in  store  for  her. 

Henri  Devereux,  the  half-brother  of  Elise,  to  whose 
care  her  father  had  committed  her  at  his  death,  and 
who  had  loved  her  very  fondly,  had  been  angered  by 
her  marrying  Sydney  Nelson  in  opposition  to  his 
wishes,  and  would  afterwards  hold  no  communication 
with  her.  He  had  intended  her  to  marry  his  dearest 
friend,  who,  like  himself,  was  a  native-born  French- 
man. Not  even  the  news  of  her  death  seemed  to  move 
him,  so  great  had  been  his  estrangement  from  her ;  but 
as  the  days  passed  by  a  great  longing  came  over  him  to 
see  the  children  of  Elise.  He  learned  that  Robert  was 
at  school  in  Princeton,  and  he  made  a  special  visit  there 
to  see  him.  He  saw  in  Robert  a  striking  resemblance 
to  his  mother,  and  at  once  became  interested  and  made 
himself  known  to  the  young  man,  who  held  himself 
proudly  aloof  from  the  man  who  had  treated  his 


RANDOLPH  HALL 


41 


mother  so  harshly,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  she 
.had  married  the  man  she  loved. 

Helen,  with  her  sweet,  clinging  nature,  buried  all 
resentment,  and  loved  him  for  her  dear  mother's  sake, 
and  even  the  stern  man  who  had  disliked  so  much  the 
father  whom  she  resembled  melted  under  her  affec* 
tionate  disposition  and  learned  to  love  her  very  dearly. 


42 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  VISIT  TO  RANDOLPH  HALL. 

One  evening  as  Mrs.  Stafford  and  Lillian  were  driv- 
ing they  noticed  as  they  approached  Randolph  Hall 
that  one  of  the  large  iron  gates  through  which  vehicles 
were  accustomed  to  pass  was  open. 

' '  Let  us  drive  in, ' '  Mrs.  Stafford  said.  "  It  is  proba- 
ble Mrs.  Coles  has  heard  from  Robert  and  Helen  and 
they  are  coming  home.  When  I  last  saw  him  Robert 
said  he  would  be  at  home  this  fall." 

Lillian  gladly  guided  the  horse  in  that  direction, 
She  had  long  had  a  desire  to  have  a  nearer  view  and 
a  better  acquaintance  with  the  grand  old  building  she 
had  so  much  admired  from  a  distance.  As  they  can- 
tered up  the  wide  graveled  carriage-way  Lillian  ex- 
claimed :  ' '  Eveything  is  in  perfect  order,  Aunt  Alice. 
Just  look  at  the  shaven  lawn,  the  chrysanthemums  so 
nicely  cared  for,  and  the  roses  so  nicely  arranged  and 
freed  from  imperfect  and  shattered  ones.  It  doesn't 
look  at  all  as  if  the  master  and  mistress  were  absent. ' ■ 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Stafford  answered,  "everything  is  kept 
up  as  it  has  always  been.  Mrs.  Coles  and  her  brother, 
who  have  long  been  here,  and  are  much  attached  to 
the  family,  carry  out  their  wishes  in  regard  to  every- 
thing as  nearly  as  they  can.  But  here  comes  Mrs. 
Coles." 

The  housekeeper  greeted  Mrs.  Stafford  cordially, 
and  said  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Stafford's  question : 

"Yes,  ma'am;  Mr.  Robert  and  Miss  Helen  are  com- 
ing. They  wrote  last  week  and  said  I  must  have  the 
house  aired  and  made  ready  for  them,  as  they  may 
come  after  a  day's  notice.   Miss  Helen  is  not  so  well, 


A  VISIT  TO  RANDOLPH  HALL 


43 


the  letter  said,  and  is  pining  for  home.  I  know  she  is, 
the  dear  young  lady.  She  loves  the  Hall  better  than 
any  place  in  the  world,  and  nothing  but  being  near  her 
Buddie  while  he  was  studying  would  have  induced  her 
to  leave  it.  His  studies  are  over  now,  and  he  said  in 
his  letter  they  were  coming  home  for  good.  You  know, 
Miss  Alice,  that  makes  me  so  happy.  I  love  them  so 
much,  and  do  hope  their  being  at  home  will  get  Miss 
Helen  well  and  strong ;  but  I  much  fear  she  has  that 
weakness  of  the  heart  her  poor  mother  had,  and  which 
finally  killed  her.  When  she  is  excited  about  anything 
I  have  seen  her  put  her  hand  to  her  heart. ' ' 

Mrs.  Stafford  asked  if  she  could  take  Lillian  over 
the  house. 

"Certainly,  ma'am.  It  is  all  cleaned  up  and  ready 
for  Mr.  Robert  and  Miss  Helen,  and  they  said  some-, 
thing  about  bringing  company  with  them." 

What  a  delight  it  was  to  Lillian  to  go  over  the  house, 
so  magnificently  and  tastily  furnished !  Every  room 
seemed  more  beautiful  than  the  preceding  one,  and 
called  forth  exclamations  of  wonder  and  delight.  Mrs. 
Stafford  took  her  to  the  picture  gallery.  What  an 
array  of  beauty  and  stately  pride  there  was  in  the 
family  portraits !  Lillian  had  learned  of  all  the  later 
ones  from  Mrs.  Stafford,  and  gazed  upon  them  with 
great  interest.  Tears  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  looked 
into  the  bright,  intelligent  face  of  sweet  Margie,  whom 
Auntie  and  Aunt  Alice  had  loved  so  dearly,  and  who 
had  died  so  young.  Mrs.  Stafford  called  her  attention 
to  the  portraits  of  two  beautiful  children,  telling  her 
they  were  Robert  and  Helen  Nelson  at  six  and  three 
years.  Below  them  on  easels  were  the  latest  portraits, 
taken  just  before  they  left  home.  Helen  had  inherited 
from  her  father  fair  complexion,  blue  eyes  and  light 
hair.    There  was  a  pleasant  smile  on  her  fair,  sweet 


u 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


face,  and  a  soft  look  in  the  clear  blue  eyes,  that  made 
her  countenance  very  attractive. 

1 4  Isn  't  she  lovely.  Aunt  Alice ! ' '  Lillian  asked.  1 4 1 
know  I  shall  love  her  dearly  if  I  ever  see  her." 

14  Yes.  she  is  indeed  a  lovely  girl,  and  I  trust  you 
will  be  good  friends.  Robert  inherited  his  mother's 
dark  eyes  and  hair  and  line,  regular  features." 

As  she  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  portrait  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford continued : 

14  Robert  is  not  strikingly  handsome,  like  Walter 
Brunette,  but  he  has  a  face  which,  like  his  character, 
grows  in  attractiveness  as  you  study  it.  Notice  the 
broad,  intellectual  forehead,  the  thoughtful  eyes,  the 
kindly  expression,  the  beautifully  shaped  mouth,  that 
seems  about  to  greet  you.  The  mustache  gives  him  an 
older,  more  manly  appearance,  which  accords  well  with 
his  position  as  the  young  squire  of  the  Hall.  It  is  a 
noble  face,  fair  index  of  a  noble  character.*'' 

Lillian  did  not  express  her  opinion;  indeed,  she  was 
too  busy  studying  the  other  faces,  of  whom  Aunt  Alice 
had  told  her,  for  the  members  of  the  family  had  often 
been  a  subject  of  conversation  between  Lillian  and  her 
aunt.  After  they  had  gone  through  most  of  the  rooms 
Lillian  mounted  to  the  turret  and  called  down  to 
Aunt  Alice,  who  did  not  care  to  climb  the  steps : 

"Oh,  Aunt  Alice,  the  scene  is  entrancingly  beauti- 
ful !  I  would  not  have  missed  it  for  anything.  The 
sinking  sun  is  reflected  in  the  water,  and  it  is  grand. 
The  boats  plying  upon  the  river,  a  large  steamer  in 
the  distance  ploughing  the  waters,  the  trees  overhang- 
ing the  banks,  the  fine  country  around,  all  make  it  a 
scene  which  I  have  no  words  to  describe.  I  feel  as 
if  I  could  stay  here  a  whole  day  and  look  the  landscape 
over. 1 1 

Mrs.  Stafford  smiled  at  the  girl's  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration.   She  recalled  her  own  delight  when  she  first 


A  VISIT  TO  RANDOLPH  HALL 


45 


climbed  to  the  turret,  but  her  eyes  had  a  saddened 
expression  as  she  remembered  the  pride  with  which 
Elise  pointed  out  the  fair  domain  of  Randolph  Hall 
and  exulted  in  its  great  improvement. 

"I  love  the  Hall  so  much  better  now,"  she  had 
said.  ''This  turret  was  my  own  design.  I  shall  de- 
light to  come  here,  and,  with  my  glass,  watch  for  Dr. 
Nelson's  coming.  I  always  enjoyed  fine  scenery.' 9 

The  beautiful  young  mistress  of  the  Hall  was  sleep- 
ing now  in  the  family  burying  ground  by  the  side  of 
the  husband  who  had  loved  her  so  fondly  and  gratified 
her  every  wish.  When  they  were  going  home  Lillian 
said,  after  a  slight  pause : 

* 4  Aunt  xYlice,  the  Hall  is  very  grand  and  everything 
very  costly  and  elegant,  but  I  love  Moss  Side  best. 
The  very  grandeur  of  the  Hall  oppresses  me,  chills 
me,  as  it  were,  while  Moss  Side  is  the  brightest,  dear- 
est, sweetest  place  in  the  world. ' '  Mrs.  Stafford  smiled 
into  the  eloquent  upturned  face,  and  said:  "1  am  glad 
you  love  Moss  Side  so  well.  I  have  been  afraid  you 
would  be  lonely,  as  there  is  not  much  congenial  society 
around  us  now;  but  you  would  not  feel  that  way 
about  the  Hall  if  Robert  and  Helen  were  there.  No 
he  use  seems  homelike  all  shut  Up  and  uninhabited,  as 
that  has  been  for  so  long  a  time.  I  have  spent  many 
delightful  hours  at  the  Hall  since  I  was  a  tiny  girl. 
There  have  been  many  sad  changes,  but  I  dearly  love 
the  grand  old  place  yet,  and  it  grieves  me  to  think  it 
is  encumbered  with  debt  and  may  pass  from  the  fam- 
ily who  have  so  long  owned  it.  The  only  hope  I  see 
of  its  redemption  is  for  Robert  to  marry  a  rich  wife, 
whose  property  would  enable  him  to  pay  off  the  mort- 
gage ;  but  he  is  so  honorable,  I  think  he  would  hesitate 
to  do  that,  unless  he  loved  her  as  well  as  if  there  was 
nc  wealth  to  be  considered.  He  certainly  cannot  af- 
ford to  marry  a  poor  wife.  I  do  not  believe  in  marry- 


46 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


ing  for  money,  but  a  man  may  love  a  wealthy  girl  as 
sincerely  as  he  could  one  without  a  fortune.  Robert 
will  meet  many  wealthy  girls  in  society,  and  he  can 
choose  from  among  them  one  who  would  grace  Ran- 
dolph Hall  as  its  mistress  and  redeem  it  by  her  for- 
tune. I  most  heartily  hope  so.  I  should  be  very  sorry 
indeed  if  it  should  ever  pass  from  the  family.  Such  a 
blow  would  doubtless  snap  the  slender  thread  of 
Helen's  life.  While  Robert  would  feel  the  loss  of  his 
ancestral  home  deeply,  the  world  would  never  know 
it.  He  has,  I  think,  a  strong  nature,  that  would  not 
readily  yield  to  misfortune.  If  he  had  only  half  a 
chance  he  would  redeem  it  by  his  own  untiring  efforts ; 
but  the  odds  are  all  against  him." 


THE  HAUNTED  ROOM  47 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  HAUNTED  ROOM. 

It  had  been  nearly  three  weeks  since  AValter  Bru- 
nette had  been  to  Moss  Side,  a  much  longer  time  than 
had  ever  elapsed  between  his  visits.  Lillian  congratu- 
lated herself  that  her  coolness  had  at  last  had  its  ef- 
fect. Rumors  of  his  marriage  with  his  cousin  were 
again  afloat.  Cuckoo's  Nest  had  been  enlarged,  re- 
modeled and  beautified.  The  servants  said  this  had 
been  done  for  the  coming  of  the  bride,  and  that  the 
master  had  gone  to  bring  her  home.  Brunette  would 
not  have  felt  very  much  complimented  if  he  had 
known  what  great  pleasure  these  reports  gave  the  fam- 
ily at  Moss  Side.  Even  good  Mrs.  Burke,  the  house- 
keeper, and  the  servants  were  glad  to  know  there  was 
no  danger  of  his  carrying  off  Lillian.  They  were  all 
devoted  to  her,  and  all  disliked  Walter  Brunette.  It 
was,  indeed,  a  great  relief  to  Lillian  and  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford. Lillian  had  always  feared  the  man.  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford's warning  to  her  from  the  first  of  her  acquaint- 
ance had  something  to  do  with  this  feeling,  but  her 
intercourse  with  him  had  greatly  increased  it.  There 
were  times  when  the  conviction  grew  upon  her  that  he 
loved  her  or  was  playing  the  role  of  lover  successfully. 
She  caught  sometimes  a  look  in  his  eye,  a  look  of  such 
intense  repression  as  if  he  feared  to  lose  control  of 
himself  and  the  effort-  was  almost  greater  than  he 
could  bear.  Sometimes  it  was  a  look  as  if  he  would 
use  his  eyes  as  diving  bells  to  penetrate  the  very 
secrets  of  her  heart,  and  it  made  her  tremble  lest  she 
should  discover  to  him  this  feeling  of  increased  dislike 
and  distrust  that  had  gradually  grown  upon  her.  She 


48 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


knew  Aunt  Alice  shared  this  feeling  with  her-— dear, 
sweet  Aunt  Alice,  who  was  so  kind  to  everybody. 
Why  did  she  dislike  and  fear  this  man  of  whom  she 
knew  nothing  disparaging?  Was  it  not  an  intuition 
that  he  was  not  a  good  man  and  was  in  some  way 
trying  to  harm  her,  the  orphan  girl,  who  had  no  other 
protector?  If  she  had  had  a  brother  or  father,  if 
Uncle  or  Mr.  Stafford  had  been  living,  she  knew 
neither  she  nor  Aunt  Alice  would  have  felt  thus ;  but 
they  both  feared  danger  in  some  way,  and  yet  could 
not  even  think  in  what  direction  it  would  come,  and, 
of  course,  could  not  find  a  way  to  avoid  it.  When 
they  felt  assured  of  his  marriage  there  came  to  Lillian 
a  buoyancy  and  natural  lightness  to  which  she  had  of 
late  been  a  stranger.  The  morning  after  her  visit  to 
Randolph  Hall  a  lady  friend  of  Mrs.  Stafford's  had 
called  and  spoken  of  the  marriage  as  a  certainty.  On 
her  departure  Lillian  had  said,  with  a  merry  laugh, 
that  was  as  music  to  Aunt  Alice's  ears: 

"  Auntie,  just  think  how  much  trouble  we  have 
given  ourselves  unnecessarily.  You  have  been  grieving 
for  fear  the  young  man  would  fall  in  love  with  me 
and  make  trouble  by  wanting  to  marry  me  instead  of 
his  cousin,  to  whom  he  is  engaged,  and  whom  his 
mother  wishes  him  to  marry,  while  I  thought  he  was 
trying  to  flirt  with  me  for  his  own  amusement.  In- 
stead he  was  only  playing  the  part  of  a  friendly  ac- 
quaintance, trying  in  the  absence  of  his  fiancee  to  en- 
tertain me,  a  stranger.  I  really  think,  Aunt  Alice, 
we  owe  him  an  apology  for  having  misjudged  him. 
Never  mind,  we  will  try  to  atone  for  it  all  by  our  kind- 
ness to  his  wife  when  he  brings  her  home.  I  hope  his 
mother  will  give  a  reception  and  invite  us.  I  think 
I  should  greatly  enjoy  it,  now  my  heart  is  so  gay  and 
happy."  Her  happiness  was  of  short  duration.  The 
very  next  evening  Walter  Brunette  drove  up  to  Moss 


THE  HAUNTED  ROOM 


49 


Side.  It  was  with  a  lingering  hope  that  the  report  of 
his  marriage  might  yet  be  true  that  she  went  in  to 
receive  him.  He  was  standing  before  her  portrait, 
gazing  at  it  so  intently  he  did  not  notice  her  entrance. 
Two  months  before  his  death,  her  uncle  had  taken  her 
to  New  York  to  have  this  portrait  painted  by  a  cele- 
brated Italian  painter,  who  was  on  a  visit  there.  A 
more  exquisite  picture  could  scarcely  be  imagined. 
The  artist  had  skillfully  caught  the  sweetness  of  ex- 
pression that  added  such  an  irresistible  charm  to  her 
almost  perfect  features.  The  dark  blue  eyes,  deeply 
fringed  with  black  lashes,  looked  at  you  with  a  smile 
of  happy  content.  The  ruby  lips,  slightly  parted, 
seemed  about  to  speak  of  a  life  full  of  joy  and  bright- 
ness. The  dark  hair,  in  which  the  sunlight  seemed  to 
nestle,  was  brushed  back  from  the  low,  broad  fore- 
head ;  but  a  few  stray  ringlets  had  escaped,  as  if  loath 
to  leave  the  white,  blue-veined  forehead,  over  which 
they  were  accustomed  to  linger  with  careless  grace. 
The  portrait  had  been  a  birthday  present  to  Aunt 
Annie,  who  had  it  hung  in  her  room,  that  she  might 
enjoy  it  at  all  times.  The  day  before  her  death  she 
had  in  Lillian  rs  presence  given  it  to  Mrs.  Stafford,  say- 
ing: "I  bequeath  the  picture  to  you,  dear  Alice,  as  a 
precious  legacy.  Some  time  one  of  nature  ?s  noblemen 
worthy  of  even  the  love  of  our  peerless  Lillian  will 
steal  her  from  you,  and  the  portrait  will  then  be  a 
comfort  to  you  in  your  loneliness.  At  your  death  it 
will,  of  course,  revert  to  Lillian. ' 9  Mrs.  Stafford  and 
Lillian  had  packed  the  pictures  before  they  left  the 
home  in  the  city,  but  there  had  been  delay  in  their 
transportation,  and  the  portrait  had  been  hung  during 
Brunette's  absence.  When  Lillian  made  her  presence 
known  he  turned  from  the  picture  with  a  look  that 
disconcerted  her?  so  full  of  fond  admiration  was  it; 


50 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


but  he  greeted  her  with  that  easy  grace  of  which  he 
was  master. 

"Miss  Lillian,''  he  exclaimed,  "that  picture  makes 
me  wish  to  be  an  artist.  I  would  give  half  I  possess 
to  be  able  to  paint  such  a  picture. 9  9 

"You  are  fond  of  art?"  Lillian  asked. 

"Yes,  enthusiastically  fond  of  it;  but  I  have  no 
talent  for  it."  Then  he  told  her  he  had  been  called 
off  unexpectedly  on  business,  and  said,  with  a  signifi- 
cant look  at  Lillian  : 

"It  seemed  as  if  I  had  been  gone  a  year.  During 
my  enforced  absence  Moss  Side  has  changed  outwardly 
under  the  touch  of  the  frost-king,  but  it  is  the  sweetest 
place  in  the  world  at  all  seasons." 

"I  told  Aunt  Alice  so  a  few  days  ago,  after  a  visit 
to  Randolph  Hall,"  Lillian  said. 

Then  she  spoke  of  how  much  she  enjoyed  her  visit 
to  the  Hall  and  the  view  from  the  turret. 

' 4  Did  they  initiate  you  into  the  delightful  mysteries 
of  the  haunted  room,  and  did  you  feel  the  awe  such 
places  always  inspire?"  Brunette  asked. 

"No,"  Lillian  replied.  "I  have  never  heard  there 
was  a  haunted  room  at  the  Hall.  If  I  had  known 
there  was  I  would  have  asked  to  see  it,  as  I  have  never 
been  in  a  place  with  such  a  reputation." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Brunette  replied.  "All  old  houses  are 
made  more  interesting  to  imaginative  minds  if  they 
have  a  ghost  as  a  nocturnal  visitor.  Cuckoo  Nest,  my 
home,  is  said  to  possess  such  a  visitant.  Tradition  says 
it  is  one  of  my  aunts  of  many  generations  back,  who 
killed  herself  because  she  could  not  win  the  love  of  the 
man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  heart.  Those  who 
have  been  fortunate  enough  to  see  her  say  she  dresses 
in  long  white  trailing  garments,  with  disheveled  hair, 
and  haunts  the  upper  hall,  moaning  and  wringing  her 
^vhite  hands.  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 


THE  HAUNTED  ROOM 


SI 


her,  but  she  has  always  evaded  my  most  eager  searek." 

Lillian  laughed  merrily  at  the  earnest  manner  im 
which  he  talked  of  the  apparition,  as  if  he  believed 
fully  in  it 

"What  a  pity  she  does  not  show  herself  to  her 
nephew,  who  is  so  anxious  to  make  her  acquaintance  ! 
But  what  is  the  story  of  the  ghost  at  the  Hall?"  *k# 
asked,  her  face  lighted  up  with  interest.  "I  used 
love  ghost  stories  dearly  when  I  was  a  child,  and  I 
find  I  have  not  yet  become  indifferent  to  them. " 

* 'Well,"  Walter  Brunette  said,  "the  story  goes  that 
the  builder  of  the  Hall,  the  grim  old  ancestor  of  th* 
Nelsons,  made  a  league  with  the  Evil  One  Jhat  he  would 
give  him  his  soul  at  death  if  his  Satanic  Majesty- 
would  permit  him,  after  his  demise,  to  pay  occasional 
visits  to  the  Hall  so  long  as  one  of  his  lineal  descend- 
ants owned  the  estate.  It  is  said  he  makes  his  visit* 
whenever  there  are  more  than  one  heir  to  the  property 
and  blights  the  young  lives  lest  if  there  should  be  mort 
than  one  heir  left  there  might  arise  complication  by 
means  of  which  the  Hall  might  go  from  one  of  hi* 
name  and  thus  his  temporary  erscape  from  torture, 
which  must  be  some  alleviation  to  his  sufferings,  would 
be  cut  off.  Tradition  says  he  was  a  very  strange  old 
man,  who  in  life  had  a  room  on  the  second  floor,  over- 
looking the  flower  garden.  In  this  room  he  kept  hi* 
choicest  books  and  his  violin,  which  he  was  very  fond 
of  playing,  and  here  he  smoked  and  entertained  hi* 
boon  companions.  This  room  has  been  kept  untouched 
during  all  these  years,  and  people  say  when  the  wind 
is  boisterous  and  howls  around  the  house  the  sound  of 
a  violin  may  be  heard  mingling  with  the  fury  of  th« 
.1  elements.  Some  who  sat  up  with  fair  Margie  Nelson 
the  night  she  died  say  they  saw  a  shadow  pass  over 
her  face  just  before  her  death,  and  it  looked  like  the 
pi'ofile  of  the  squire,  whose  picture  has  always  hung; 


52 


LILLIAN  DeVEEE 


on  the  walls  of  his  room.  The  doctors  had  just  left 
Margie's  room  and  pronounced  her  better.  It  is  a 
consolation  to  feel  that  with  this  generation  this  power 
the  old  spirit  possesses  will  pass  away.  The  Hall  is 
heavily  mortgaged,  and  Robert  Nelson  will  never  be 
able  to  pay  it  off.  Mr.  Packard,  the  millionaire,  was 
not  the  friend  he  seemed  when  he  lent  Dr.  Nelson 
money  on  such  easy  terms,  promising  never  to  trouble 
him  for  it.  Mr.  Packard  has  always  desired  to  own 
the  Hall,  and  saw  a  way  to  obtain  his  object  by  lend- 
ing the  money,  knowing  the  promise  did  not  extend  to 
the  son,  and  I  hear  he  will  after  a  few  years  foreclose 
the  mortgage.  Rather  a  gruesome  story,' '  he  asked, 
smilingly,  as  he  noted  Lillian's  absorbing  interest  in 
his  recital. 

"Yes,"  Lillian  replied  thoughtfully,  "and  just  as 
ridiculous  and  nonsensical  as  all  ghost  stories  are.  It 
is  strange  we  should  love  to  hear  anything  that  is  so 
unreasonable  and  unnatural  as  a  ghost  story.  Of 
course,  all  the  story  is  the  outcome  of  an  imaginative 
person  who  loves  to  tax  the  credulity  of  others. 
Everything  connected  with  the  mysteries  of  the  Hall 
can  be  explained  on  natural  grounds.  It  does  seem 
strange  at  first  sight  that  all  the  young  members  of 
the  family  should  die  at  an  early  age,  but  it  is  only  the 
sequence  of  natural  laws.  Dr.  Nelson,  his  wife  and 
daughter  died  with  a  fever  very  prevalent,  just  as 
Aunt  Alice's  husband  and  three  children.  There  is 
surely  no  ghost  chamber  here,  and  there  is  no  skeleton 
in  the  family  to  rob  us  of  the  happiness  dear  Auntie 
and  I  feel  in  each  other's  society.  Moss  Side  is  one 
home  in  which,  it  appears  to  me,  the  trail  of  the,  ser- 
pent is  not  seen,  except  in  our  hearts,  which  are  too 
ready  to  receive  into  them  the  thoughts  that  mar  our 
peace. ' ' 

"You  are  not  superstitious,  then,  Miss  Lillian?  You 


THE  HAUNTED  ROOM  53 


do  not  believe  in  the  old  squire's  satanic  influence?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  would  not  believe  in  anything  so  un- 
reasonable. Auntie  and  I  have  decided  on  a  way  for 
Mr.  Nelson  to  retain  the  Hall." 

6  '  In  what  way  ? '  7  asked  Brunetle. 

"By  his  marrying  a  rich  wife,"  was  the  reply. 

Walter  Brunette  looked  straight  at  Lillian  and 
asked  in  slow,  measured  tones : 

"Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  wrould  have 
Robert  Nelson  marry  a  lady  of  wealth  and  entail  upon 
her  the  curse  of  his  family  for  the  sake  of  retaining 
his  home  ? ' '   Then,  with  a  mocking  smile,  he  added : 

* '  Who  would  have  dreanjed  the  high-toned  Miss  De 
Vere  and  the  honorable  Mrs.  Stafford  were  mer- 
cenary. ' '   Then,  with  a  look  of  determination,  he  said : 

"I  would  marry  the  girl  I  love  if  she  were  penni- 
less, and  if  by  marrying  her  I  lost  every  dollar  I  pos- 
sess I  would  still  marry  her. ' ' 

"So,  I  doubt  not,  will  Mr.  Nelson,"  Lillian  said; 
"but  I  do  hope  the  girl  he  loves  shall  be  one  who 
has  wealth,  and  who  for  love  of  him  will  willingly— 
yea,  gladly— give  that  wealth  to  enable  him  to  foil  the 
plot  of  a  man  who  under  the  guise  of  friendship  is 
trying  to  get  his  ancestral  home.  There  are  many 
charming  girls  who  have  wealth  and  beauty.  I  can- 
not see  why  it  is  mercenary  to  marry  the  one  he  loves, 
whether  she  possesses  wealth  or  not. ? ' 

Then,  with  an  ill-disguised  sneer,  Brunette  said : 

"Well,  when  Mr.  Nelson  comes,  Mrs.  Stafford  will 
have  a  fine  opportunity  to  try  her  match-making 
schemes  upon  him,  as  I  hear  he  is  an  especial  favorite 
of  hers.  I  do  not  know  the  man,  though  we  were  born 
in  the  same  neighborhood,  but  a  few  miles  apart.  I 
went  to  school  with  him  one  day.  I  remember  we  had 
a  quarrel  at  recess,  which  resulted  in  a  fight,  in  which 
I  was  the  victor.   We  were  about  ten  years  old  then, 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


and  about  the  same  size  and  strength.  xIn  after  years 
I  outgrew  him.  I  did  not  like  the  restraints  of  school, 
and  did  not  go  any  more.  Then  we  moved  away  and 
did  not  return  until  recently.  I  have  not  seen  him 
during  his  short  visits  to  his  home  for  the  three  years 
we  have  been  back.  I  do  not  know  that  I  care  to 
renew  the  slight  acquaintance  I  have  with  him,  lest 
we  again  come  to  arms,  as  in  the  day  of  yore  V7 

When  Lillian  told  Mrs.  Stafford  of  Walter  Bru- 
mette's  story  of  the  haunted  room  at  the  Hall,  Aunt 
Alice  said: 

6 'That  ridiculous  story  has  been  circulated  among 
ignorant  people,  who  are  usually  superstitious.  The 
•Id  squire's  room  has  been  kept  as  it  was  because  in 
hit  life  he  was  so  fond  of  it,  and  because  there  are 
enough  rooms  without  it,  and  all  the  male  members  of 
the  family  have  used  it  as  a  smoking  room.  I  have 
teen  in  it,  and  it  is  one  of  the  brightest,  most  pleas- 
Ant  rooms  on  the  second  floor.  There  is  nothing 
ghostly  or  uncanny  about  it.  The  old  squire's  por- 
trait, with  the  clear-cut  features  in  profile,  hangs  upon 
the  wall  as  it  has  done  for  a  century,  and  time  has 
been  wonderfully  kind  to  it.  I  was  in  her  room  when 
Margie  died  and  saw  no  shadow  save  that  which 
death  usually  throws  over  the  face  before  the  exit  of 
the  soul  to  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  of  which 
the  Psalmist  speaks.  She  was  thought  to  be  better 
the  day  before  she  died  at  night,  but  the  forces  often 
•eem  to  rally  just  before  death,  as  if  for  a  final  strug- 
gle, and  deceive  the  loved  ones,  who  seize  upon  every 
straw  of  hope.  Some  time  when  we  go  to  the  Hall  I 
wili  take  you  to  the  haunted  room. 


ROBERT  AND  HELEN 


55 


CHAPTER  IX.  ; 

ROBERT  AND  HELEN. 

One  morning  a  few  days  later  Mrs.  Stafford  received 
a  letter  from  Helen  asking  her  to  go  over  to  the  Hall 
and  see  if  everything  was  in  readiness,  as  they  would 
bring  a  number  of  guests  with  them  to  spend  the  ap- 
proaching holidays.  Then  she  pleaded:  "Dear 
Auntie,  Buddie  unites  with  me  in  wishing  you  and 
Miss  Lillian  to  spend  the  holidays  with  us  at  the 
Hall.  Apart  from  the  great  pleasure  your  society 
would  give  us,  you  know  how  to  entertain  so  beauti- 
fully that  with  you  as  our  chaperon  I  could  promise 
our  guests  a  most  delightful  time,  and  I  think  Lillian 
would  enjoy  it,  too,  as  our  friends  are  all  so  nice  and 
pleasant.  I  am  not  even  as  strong  as  usual  this  winter, 
and  your  coming  to  us  in  our  need  would  relieve  me  of 
so  much  responsibility.  Now,  dearest,  please  say  yes, 
and  make  us  so  happy.  Anxiously  awaiting  your  re- 
ply, I  am  most  affectionately  your  devoted  niece, 

"Helen. 

"Much  love  to  Lillian.  I  know  I  shall  dearly  love 
her,  because  you  love  her  so  much. 99 

After  reading  the  letter  aloud  Mrs.  Stafford  said, 
thoughtfully : 

"Dr.  Graham's  daughters  have  promised  to  spend 
several  days  with  us  next  week,  and  will  be  here  at 
the  time  they  wish  me  to  be  at  the  Hall  to  receive  the 
guests. ' ' 

' '  That  doesn 't  matter, ' '  Lillian  said.  6 '  Aunt  Alice, 
Maude  and  Vivian  will  not  mind  one  bit  staying  with 
Mrs.  Burke  and  me.  While  we  will  miss  you,  for  you 
always  contribute  so  much  to  our  enjoyment,  still,  for 


56 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Helen's  sake,  we  will  be  willing  to  give  you  up  for  a 
few  days." 

So  it  was  decided,  and  when,  the  next  Thursday, 
Robert  and  Helen  came,  with  their  company,  Auntie 
was  there  to  welcome  them  back  to  their  home  and 
to  give  their  friends  a  cordial  greeting,  which  at  once 
won  their  hearts.  Lillian  came  a  few  days  after, 
and  at  once  became  a  favorite  with  the  visitors,  who 
vied  with  each  other  in  showing  their  admiration  for 
the  lovely  girl  with  such  charming  manners.  Lillian 
and  Helen  fell  in  love  with  each  other  at  first  sight, 
as  they  had  anticipated,  and  were  ever  after  the  warm- 
est, dearest  friends.  For  three  weeks  the  Hall  was 
the  scene  of  gayety  and  pleasure.  With  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford, Robert,  Lillian  and  Helen  to  plan  amusements, 
there  was  no  danger  of  dull  days  at  the  Hall,  how- 
ever roughly  the  storm-king  reigned  out  doors.  Plays, 
charades,  games,  music  and  dancing  followed  each 
other  in  rapid  succession,  so  there  should  be  no 
monotony  to  tire  the  most  exacting.  To  add  to  the 
enjoyment  a  snow  fell  during  the  Christmas,  and  there 
were  merry  sleigh  rides,  with  jingling  bells  keeping 
time  to  the  sound  of  youthful  voices  and  gay  laughter. 
In  all  these  pleasures  Lillian  was  the  center  of  at- 
traction. The  adulation  she  received  would  have 
spoiled  most  girls,  but  she  had  from  childhood  been 
so  used  to  it,  it  did  not  impress  her  as  it  would  have 
done  others  less  accustomed  to  it.  Indeed,  she  was 
surprised  when  admiration  was  not  bestowed  upon 
her.  Robert  Nelson  was  the  only  gentleman  she  had 
ever  met  who  did  not  at  once  yield  to  and  acknowledge 
her  charms  by  word  or  look.  While  perfectly  cour- 
teous, showing  in  no  marked  way  his  dislike  or  indif- 
ference to  her  society,  yet  she  felt  the  restraint  in- 
stinctively—knew that  he  strove  to  avoid  her  without 
appearing  to  do  so— and  it  made  her  very  uncom- 


ROBERT  AND  HELEN  57 


fortable  in  his  society.  She  tried  in  vain  to  account 
for  this  conduct  on  his  part,  but  was  at  a  loss,  and 
determined  to  give  it  up  as  an  enigma  too  difficult  for 
her  to  solve,  and  yet  often  found  herself  striving  for 
a  solution.  Aunt  Alice  thought  him  so  noble  and 
good.  Why  should  she  fall  into  his  disfavor  when 
she  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  it  ?  Helen  had  loved 
her  at  once  as  a  friend.  Why  should  not'  her  brother 
be  equally  kind  and  appreciative  of  her  friendship? 
She  had  felt  this  coldness  at  the  Hall,  but  would  not 
admit  it  to  herself.  He  was  host,  and  as  such  his 
duty  to  his  many  guests  was  imperative.  Why  should 
she  be  so  exacting  as  to  wish  for  even  as  much  of  his 
attention  as  the  other  young  ladies,  whose  visit  to  his 
home  was  limited  ?  But  when  the  guests  had  all  de- 
parted from  the  Hall,  when  the  terrible  weather  that 
succeeded  the  holidays  had  broken  up,  when  the  spring 
opened  and  the  weather  was  so  mild  and  genial  Helen 
could  come  to  Moss  Side  and  spend  several  days  at  a 
time,  enjoying  nothing  better  than  this  sojourn  at 
dear  old  Moss  Side,  why  should  Robert  Nelson  seldom 
come,  and  appear  so  ill  at  ease  when  he  came— so 
anxious  to  leave  that  at  last  Aunt  Alice  noticed  it  and 
asked  Helen  about  it. 

"Oh,  Auntie,  Buddie  is  so  busy  getting  everything 
straight  that  has  gone  wrong  in  his  absence.  He  has 
had  to  dismiss  some  of  the  tenants  and  fill  their  places 
with  others  more  industrious  or  trustworthy.  Some 
of  the  land  that  has  been  neglected  must  be  reclaimed 
and  some  of  the  houses  must  be  repaired.  He  is  so 
busy,  I  see  very  little  of  him  at  home;  so  don't  be 
jealous  if  he  doesn't  come  often.  It  is  only  because 
stern  duty  calls  him  elsewhere." 

Mrs.  Stafford  seemed  satisfied,  and  Lillian  felt  she 
had  no  right  to  complain.  As  the  spring  advanced 
and  the  warm  weather  came  Helen  and  Lillian  were 


58 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


almost  inseparable  companions.  They  would  set  out 
in  the  pony  phaeton,  tie  the  gentle  animal  to  some 
tree  and  scour  the  country  for  wild  flowers.  Some- 
times Aunt  Alice  would  give,  them  a  row  on  the  river, 
which  Helen  greatly  enjoyed;  sometimes  they  would 
repair  to  the  boathouse  and  fish.  Helen's  delight  was 
unbounded  when  she  drew  a  fine  fish  from  the  water. 

4  *  Oh,  Auntie ! ' '  she  said,  ^ne  morning,  as  she  ex- 
hibited a  prize  larger  than  usual.  ' *  It  seems  a  cruel 
sport  to  fish,  but  I  do  enjoy  it  so  much.  It  comforts 
me  to  think  our  Saviour  allowed  it.  You  remember  he 
told  his  disciples  where  to  catch  the  most." 

This  being  so  much  in  the  open  air  with  congenial 
society  was  very  beneficial  to  Helen,  who  became 
stronger  than  she  had  ever  been,  and  was  proud  and 
thankful  of  her  new  strength. 

Walter  Brunette  still  came  frequently  to  Moss  Side, 
but  he  very  seldom  saw  Lillian,  for  she  and  Helen 
were  often  absent  when  he  came,  much  to  her  satis- 
faction and  equally  as  much  to  his  dissatisfaction.  One 
evening  in  the  early  summer  he  drove  up  and  asked 
Jim,  the  hostler,  who  was  near,  if  Lillian  was  at  home. 

4  4  No,  sar,"  was  the  answer,  given  with  a  provoking 
grin,  as  if  he  enjoyed  it.  * '  Miss  Helen  been  and  sent 
for  her  this  morning,  and  she  is  at  the  Hall." 

4  *  Does  she  live  at  the  Hall?  She  is  always  there 
when  I  come  here,"  Brunette  said. 

' 4 No,  sar,  sne  don't  live  thar  now,  but  we  ail  hopes 
she  will  some  time.  Marse  Robert  is  such  a  nice,  gen- 
teel gemman,  we  all  hopes  Miss  Lillian  and  him  will 
make  a  match."  With  something  that  sounded  very 
much  like  an  oath  Walter  Brunette  turned  his  horse 
and  drove  rapidly  away,  while  Jim,  looking  after  him, 
muttered  to  himself : 

"I  do  b'lieve  that  man  spects  to  git  Miss  Lillian. 
He  comes  here  oftener  than  Mr.  Nelson,  but  'tain't  al- 


ROBEKT  AND  HELEN  59 


ways  the  man  that  hunts  the  most  that  ketches  the 
'possum.  He!  hef  he!  He  jist  set  them  fine  white 
teeth  of  his'n  close  together  and  parted  them  lips  to 
say  a  bad  word,  but  he  managed  some  way  to  keep 
part  of  it  back.  He!  he!  he!  Hell  never  git  Miss 
Lillian  while  my  name's  Jim.  No;  dat  he  won't/' 
and  with  another  chuckle  Jim  went  to  his  work. 

One  morning  Helen  stood  at  an  open  window  of 
Moss  Side,  enjoying  with  keen  delight  the  fair  scene 
spread  out  before  her.  The  summer  sunlight  flooded 
everything  with  its  golden  glow.  The  flowers  were  in 
the  height  of  their  beauty  and  bloom.  The  grass  of 
the  lawn  was  of  its  greenest  hue  and  the  river  in  the 
distance  made  a  fine  background  for  the  lovely  picture. 

4 4 Oh,  perfect  June  day!"  she  said.  4 'Surely  the 
poet  must  have  gazed  upon  a  scene  like  this  when 
the  exclamation  burst  from  his  lips. ' '  At  that  moment 
Lillian  appeared  and  added  a  still  greater  charm  to 
the  scene  as  she  flitted  from  flower  to  flower,  gather- 
ing blossoms  to  make  a  bouquet  for  a  poor  sick  woman 
to  whom  Aunt  Alice  was  going  to  send  some  delicacies. 

Helen's  sweet  face  was  lighted  up  with  warmest  ad- 
miration when  Mrs.  Stafford  entered  the  room,  and, 
turning  to  her  Auntie- with  a  loving  smile  upon  her 
features,  she  exclaimed : 

4 'Auntie,  Lillian  is,  without  any  exception,  the  most 
beautiful  person  I  have  ever  seen.  Indeed,  I  never 
thought  I  would  ever  see  one  of  such  wondrous  beauty, 
and  grace,  and  withal  so  sweet  and  womanly.  She 
bears  a  most  striking  resemblance  to  a  picture  I  saw 
in  New  York  last  winter.  Uncle  Henri  took  me  to 
that  city,  and  while  there  we  visited  the  studio  of  a 
noted  Italian  painter,  and  the  picture  that  claimed 
our  greatest  admiration  was  one  entitled  the  6 Artist's 
Dream. 7  I  asked  Uncle  if  he  had  ever  seen  a  face  so 
perfectly  lovely,  and  he  said  'No'— that  the  picture 


W) 


LILLIAN  DbVERE 


was  what  its  name  signified,  only  a  happy  conception 
of  the  painter.    I  thought  so,  too,  then,  but  when  I 
saw  Lillian  dressed  in  fanciful  costume  like  that  of 
the  picture  one  night  during  a  play  at  the  Hall,  the 
picture  came  at  once  in  my  mind,  and  ever  since  the 
conviction  has  grown  upon  me  that  Lillian  is  the 
original  of  the  famous  picture,  which  created  such  a 
sensation  and  won  for  the  artist  such  a  reputation.  Is 
it  not  so,  Auntie  ?  M 

"You  are  right,''  Mrs.  Stafford  replied,  smiling  at 
her  enthusiasm.    When  Colonel  De  Vere  took  Lillian 
to  New  York  to  have  her  portrait  painted— the  one  that 
hangs  in  the  sitting  room— -the  artist  begged  so  hard 
for  a  sitting  in  fanciful  costume  for  his  studio,  Lillian, 
to  please  her  uncle,  who  was  so  proud  of  her  extraor- 
dinary beauty,  consented,  on  condition  that  her  name 
should  be  withheld  from  the  public.  Hence  the  artist's 
fancy  name. ' ' 


WALTEK  BRUNETTE'S  SUIT  61 


CHAPTER  X. 

WALTER  BRUNETTE'S  SUIT. 

While  Walter  Brunette's  viaits  became  more  and 
more  frequent,  Robert  Nelson  rarely  came  to  Moss 
Side.  Sometimes  when  Lillian  returned  from  a  ride 
on  "Cloud"  or  a  drive  with  Helen  Mrs.  Stafford  would 
speak  with  much  pleasure  of  a  visit  from  Robert. 

"Poor  boy/7  she  said  once;  "he  is  working  himself 
almost  to  death  to  try  to  keep  his  home,  and  it  sad- 
dens me  to  think  it  is  such  a  hopeless  task.  He  said 
to-day,  while  a  look  of  determination  flashed  from  his 
eyes :  1  Auntie,  I  must  keep  it  while  Helen  lives.  She 
could  never  bear  the  loss  of  our  home.  For  her  dear 
sake  I  am  willing  to  work,  and  trust.'  That  is  why 
he  seems  so  little  like  himself,  so  different  from  the 
young  man  who  before  the  burden  of  responsibility 
fell  so  heavily  upon  his  young  shoulders  was  so  light- 
hearted  and  hopeful,  whose  merry  laugh  rang  out  as 
gayly  as  any  schoolboy 's. ' ' 

That  night  Lillian  took  herself  severely  to  task  for 
what  she  termed  her  injustice. 

"Here  I  have  been  feeling  myself  aggrieved  be- 
cause he  denied  me  his  friendship,  while  with  a  noble 
purpose,  with  a  fortitude  that  commands  our  warm- 
est admiration,  he  is  devoting  himself  to  the  discharge 
of  a  duty  which  involves  the  happiness,  perhaps  the 
life,  of  one  who  is  dearer  than  anyone  on  earth.  How 
selfish  I  feel  myself  to  be  in  comparison  with  his 
heroic  battle  aigainst  adversity.  •  ■  Could  she  have  seen 
into  Robert  Nelson's  heart  she  would  not,  perhaps, 
have  been  so  harsh  in  her  judgment  to  herself.  The 
truth  was,  Robert  Nelson  had  seen  Paul  Graham  in 


62 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Philadelphia  a  few  days  before  his  return  to  the 
Hall.  This  young  man,  the  son  of  Dr.  Graham,  the 
family  physician  of  both  Moss  Side  and  the  Hall,  was 
in  Philadelphia  studying  medicine.  His  sisters  Maude 
and  Vivian  were  often  at  Moss  Side,  and  had  writ- 
ten enthusiastic  letters  of  Lillian's  loveliness,  and  also 
the  report  that  Walter  Brunette  had  jilted  his  cousin 
and  would  marry  Lillian.  Paul  told  Robert  of  this 
report,  which  had  been  confirmed  by  Walter  Brunette 
himself,  whom  Paul  had  recently  seen  in  Washington. 
He  had  given  Robert  Brunette's  own  words:  "Yes,  I 
will  marry  Lillian  De  Vere  unless  she  is  a  most  heart- 
less  coquette.  It  is  dangerous  to  trust  a  girl  as  beauti* 
ful  as  she,  however  true  and  loving  she  may  appear. 
To  my  knowledge  she  has  carried  one  man  to  the 
height  of  bliss  and  then  by  a  few  words  hurled  him  to 
the  depths  of  despair.  By  that  same  love  of  admira- 
tion she  may  encourage  my  attentions  that  she  may 
play  the  same  game  on  me."  These  words  had  made 
Robert  Nelson  afraid  of  Lillian.  He  was  afraid  to 
trust  himself  in  her  power. 

M Besides/ '  he  said  to  himself,  "I  do  not  wish  to 
have  Walter  Brunette  for  a  rival.  If  she  is  engaged 
to  him  I  will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  her  marrying 
him.  I  do  not  think  he  is  a  good  man,  and  while  it 
seems  a  pity  that  one  so  beautiful  and  whom  Auntie 
loves  so  much  should  marry  such  a  man,  still  if  she  is 
a  heartless  flirt  she  deserves  no  better  fate. " 

So  he  stood  aloof,  watching  the  game,  however,  with 
great  interest,  the  nature  of  which  he  did  not  once 
suspect.  He  found  out  by  some  means  every  time 
Brunette  went  to  Moss  Side,  and  after  awhile  learned 
that  Auntie  did  not  approve  the  match ;  but  failed  to 
find  out  that  Lillian  did  not  approve  it  herself,  and 
was  only  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  assure  Brunette 
of  the  fact   It  came  at  last.   One  day  when  Lillian, 


WALTER  BRUNETTE'S  SUIT  63 


in  all  the  brightness  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  stood 
by  him  among  the  flowers,  the  question  which  meant 
so  much  for  her  was  asked,  and  he  was  given  a  gentle 
but  firm  refusal.  After  his  impassioned  avowal  of 
love  she  had  said : 1  '  I  cannot  marry  you,  Mr.  Brunette, 
because  I  do  not  love  you.  I  have  tried  in  every  way 
to  save  you  and  myself  the  pain  of  this  moment  by 
showing  you  I  did  not  care  for  you  in  the  way  you 
desired.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  it  ere  this." 
Then  came  a  look  into  his  eyes  that  frightened  her, 
so  wild,  so  f  ull  of  love  and  of  despair. 

"Is  your  decision  irrevocable?  Do  you  mean  what 
you  say— that  you  can  never  love  me,  can  never  marry 
me?"  came  in  tones  of  bitterness  between  his  set  teeth. 

"I  do,"  was  Lillian's  answer. 

"Then  beware  of  the  consequences.  You  by  your 
fatal  beauty  have  lured  me  on  to  madness.  It  is  a 
fearful  thing  to  arouse  the  passion  of  a  man  who  has 
never  in  his  life  known  the  word  fail.  Again  I  say, 
beware/9  and  without  another  word  he  was  gone.  A 
great  tremor  seized  Lillian,  and  a  sudden  fear  curdled 
around  her  heart  at  his  words  and  looks.  It  was  as 
if  the  future,  with  all  its  sorrows,  opened  for  a  moment 
before  her  and  threw  its  clouds  over  her  bright  young 
life.  With  an  effort  she  tried  to  throw  off  this  pre- 
sentiment of  evil,  and  partially  succeeded  under  Aunt 
Alice's  genial  influence.  She  would  not  tell  Aunt 
Alice  of  Walter  Brunette's  threatening  words.  He 
was  only  angry  at  his  rejection  and  could  surely  mean 
nothing  by  them.  When  a  few  days  later  she  heard 
Mr.  Brunette  was  ill  with  fever  she  told  herself  it  was 
the  fever  in  his  veins  that  had  made  him  talk  so  de- 
fiantly. For  weeks  he  was  exceedingly  low ;  the  physi- 
cians despaired  of  his  life,  but  he  had  youth  and 
strength  on  his  side,  supplemented  by  good  nursing, 
and  they  turned  the  scales  in  his  favor.  One  morning 


64 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


when  he  became  better  he  asked  Dr.  Graham:  "Why 
didn't  you  let  me  die?" 

"Because  I  didn't  think  you  were  prepared  to  go, 
and  Ave  want  to  give  you  another  chance.  It  would 
have  grieved  your  mother,  too. " 

*  *  It  would  have  been  a  mercy  to  both  of  us,  I  think. 
I  don't  care  to  live." 

Dr.  Graham  thought  of  these  words  often  in  after 
life  and  felt  how  true  they  were.  With  a  kind  look 
in  his  eye  Dr.  Graham  said:  "Walter,  don't  talk  that 
way.  You  revealed  to  your  mother  and  me  in  your 
words  of  unconsciousness  the  secret  of  your  love  for 
Lillian  De  Vere  and  of  the  failure  in  your  suit.  In 
your  delirium  you  said  some  very  wild  words,  which 
I  am  sure  were  only  the  creation  of  a.  feverish  brain. 
Bear  up  bravely,  my  boy.  Many  a  man  has  had  the 
same  trial  to  bear  and  lived  under  it."  Walter  Bru- 
nette spoke  no  word,  but  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 
Lillian  felt  greatly  relieved  when  it  was  told  her  Mr. 
Brunette  and  his  mother  had  gone  away  to  the  Springs 
and  wTould  not  be  back  probably  for  a  year. 

"By  that  time  he  will  have  forgotten  the  infatuation 
he  had  for  me,  and,  I  hope,  will  return  a  sensible  man, 
married  to  his  cousin,  who,  it  is  said,  loves  him  so 
fondly."  This  thought  lightened  the  heavy  feeling 
that  had  rested  over  her  naturally  buoyant  spirits  like 
an  incubus  since  Walter  Brunette's  last  visit,  but  his 
words  and  looks  made  her  shudder  whenever  she  re- 
called them. 


LILLIAN  IN  DANGER 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LILLIAN  IN  DANGER. 

One  evening  Mrs.  Stafford  came  in  the  room  where 
Lillian  was  reading,  holding  a  letter  in  her  hand,  and 
w ith  a  perplexed  expression  said : 

' '  This  is  a  letter  which  ought,  by  all  means,  to  go 
off  on  the  morning  mail.  It  is  to  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Low- 
ther,  on  business  of  importance,  which  requires  im- 
mediate attention.  I  sent  Jim  off  and  John  is  sick,  so 
I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

Lillian  arose  quickly  and  said : 

"Why,  Aunt  Alice,  that  needn't  perplex  you  a 
moment  longer.   Cloud  and  I  will  soon  get  it  there. ' ' 

Mrs  Stafford  hesitated  a  minute  and  then  said 
slowly: 

"It  is  so  warm,  Lillian.  I  don't  like  you  to  go  out 
in  the  heat." 

"That  doesn't  matter  at  all,  Auntie,  dear.  It  will 
be  pleasant  coming  back. ' ' 

In  a  few  minutes  she  was  ready  and  Cloud  was 
saddled.  Mrs.  Stafford  accompanied  her  to  the  gate, 
and  as  Lillian  mounted  and  prepared  to  start  she 
asked  suddenly : 

* '  Lillian,  isn 't  that  thunder  ? 9  9 

"Why,  no,  Auntie.  I  heard  nothing  like  thunder, 
and  the  sun  is  shining  as  brightly  as  I  ever  saw  it." 

"It  sounded  like  distant  thunder,  and  a  storm  can 
come  up  so  quickly  when  the  weather  is  as  warm  as 
it  has  been  for  several  days." 

"Now,  Aunt  Alice,  isn't  that  rather  unfair  to  try 
to  spoil  my  anticipation  of  a  nice  ride  by  the  only  bug- 
bear of  which  you,  know  Cloud  and  I  are  afraid?  Now, 


66 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


don't  make  yourself  miserable,  Auntie.  I  will  be 
back  presently/'  she  called  back  as  she  galloped  off. 
She  had  nearly  reached  Anston,  the  little  village, 
about  a  mile  distant,  from  which  the  mail  was  carried 
daily  to  Melton,  when  she  felt  her  saddle  loosen.  She 
stopped  her  horse  and  slid  from  the  saddle  just  in 
time  to  escape  a  severe  fall.  She  found,  to  her  dismay, 
that  the  girth  had  broken  in  an  imperfect  place,  and 
she  was  not  near  enough  to  a  house  to  ask  assistance. 
By  means  of  a  small  knife  she  had  in  her  purse  and 
the  string  of  her  slipper  she  managed  to  secure  it  so 
that,  by  riding  very  slowly,  she  was  enabled  to  reach 
the  village.  She  attended  to  posting  the  letter,  pro- 
cured the  mail,  had  her  girth  mended  and  set  out  to 
return.  In  the  meantime  the  clouds  had  begun  to 
gather,  and  an  occasional  peal  of  thunder  warned  her 
that  Aunt  Alice's  surmise  about  the  thunder  was  cor- 
rect. Cloud  was  easily  frightened  by  a  thunder- 
storm, and  she  somewhat  shared  his  feelings  on  the 
subject;  so  she  set  out  to  return  with  some  appre- 
hension. She  rode  rapidly,  for  Cloud,  as  if  scenting 
the  coming  storm,  was  as  anxious  to  get  home  as  she 
was.  The  storm  came  up  quickly.  Dark  clouds  over- 
cast the  sky,  the  lurid  lightning  flashed  and  peal  after 
peal  of  deafening  thunder  came  in  rapid  succession. 
The  horse,  almost  frantic  with  fear,  dashed  on  so 
swiftly  she  could  scarcely  keep  her  seat.  It  was 
growing  very  dark,  and  she  was  nearing  "Lover's 
Leap,"  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the  river.  There 
were  thick  woods  on  one  side  of  the  road  opposite  the 
bluff,  which  made  it  dark  even  at  midday.  That  safely 
passed,  she  would  soon  be  at  home.  But  alas  for  her 
hopes!  As  they  approached  the  bluff  a  large  white 
object  in  the  road  attracted  her  attention.  With  one 
bound  Cloud  dashed  into  the  woods.  Lillian  came 
near  losing  her  seat  in  the  saddle,  but  for  a  while  she 


LILLIAN  IN  DANGER 


67 


kept  on:  then  as  the  frightened  animal  began  to 
plunge  and  rear  she  with  all  the  strength  she  possessed 
checked  his  speed  for  a  moment  and  sprang  from  the 
saddle.  The  rain  which  had  begun  to  fall  increased 
every  minute,  until  it  came  in  torrents,  and  the  wind 
began  to  blow  furiously.  She  crept  to  the  foot  of  a 
tree  and  clung  to  it  for  protection;  then  as  large 
branches  of  trees  crashed  in  their  fall  around  her  she 
began  to  think  of  some  place  of  greater  safety.  She 
remembered  there  was  a  dilapidated  hut  in  the  woods, 
not  very  far  from  where  she  was.  She  and  Helen  had 
discovered  it  once  while  searching  for  flowers,  and  they 
had  sat  on  the  doorsteps  while  Helen  told  her  of  a 
lonely  old  man  who  had  made  his  home  there,  and 
when  he  died  had  been  buried  near.  This  would  be 
better  shelter  than  the  tree  afforded,  so  by  means  of 
the  flashes  of  lightning  she  made  her  way  to  the  hut. 
The  heavy  door  had  partially  fallen  from  its  hinges. 
She  crept  through  the  open  space  and  stood  still  until 
a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  showed  her  the  hut  was  un- 
occupied. Crouching  in  one  corner,  she  put  her 
hands  over  her  eyes  and  her  fingers  in  her  ears  to 
shut  out  the  terrible  battle  of  the  elements.  She  tried 
not  to  think,  to  be  quiet  and  patient,  until  the  storm 
ceased;  but,  try  as  hard  as  ever  she  could,  her  mind 
would  be  active.  After  picturing  Aunt  Alice's  dis- 
tress, she  began  to  wonder  what  the  object  was  that 
had  stood  in  the  road  and  frightened  Cloud  so.  Could 
it  have  been  the  ghost  of  the  unhappy  young  man  who, 
it  was  said,  had  thrown  himself  headlong  from  the 
bluff  and  drowned  himself  for  love  of  one  who  loved 
him  not?  It  had  looked  just  like  a  man  in  clothes  of 
supernatural  whiteness.  She  shuddered  at  the 
thought,  for  while  we  may  under  favorable  circum- 
stances, in  the  sunlight,  in  shelter  of  home  and  in  the 
society  of  friends^  scout  the  idea  of  ghosts  and  call 


68 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


them  the  creation  of  imaginative  people,  yet  in  Lil- 
lian's circumstances  the  bravest  would  probably 
have  felt  and  reasoned  as  she  did  in  regard  to 
the  apparition  that  had  so  suddenly  appeared  in  her 
path.  She  was  so  busy  with  her  own  troublous 
thoughts  she  did  not  hear  approaching  footsteps,  and 
was  not  aware  of  a  human  presence  until  a  noise  at 
the  door  caused  her  to  look  up  suddenly.  A  man  all 
in  white,  with  his  hat  drawn  closely  over  his  face,  stood 
in  the  door  holding  a  lantern,  the  light  of  which  daz- 
zled her  after  the  intense  darkness.  She  caught  her 
breath  quickly  and  a  great  fear  seized  her ;  but  as  her 
eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  light  she  saw  it  was 
Walter  Brunette  gazing  at  her  with  a  look  of  pas- 
sionate delight  and  exultation.  With  a  cry  of  joy  she 
sprang  forward. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Brunette,  it  was  you  who  frightened 
Cloud.  You,  too,  have  sought  shelter  from  the  storm. 
I  am  glad  you  came.  Misery  loves  company,  you 
know,"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  hysterical  laugh.  Bru- 
nette advanced  into  the  room  and  a  smile  lighted  up 
his  handsome  blond  face  at  her  words. 

"Yes,  my  peerless  darling.  I  have  been  very  mis- 
erable since  your  cruel  words  sent  me  to  despair.  But 
you  did  not  mean  them;  you  only  said  them  to  test 
my  love,  did  you  not,  my  beauteous  one  ?  Ah !  there 
was  no  need  of  that!  I  love  you  with  the  maddest 
passion  that  ever  swayed  a  human  heart.  Say  you  love 
me  in  return.  Only  one  word,  dearest,  and  the  devo- 
tion of  a  lifetime  shall  be  yours.  In  one  hour  you  will 
be  my  wife,  whom  no  power  shall  take  from  me.  I 
have  a  horse  near  by.  I  can  take  you  in  the  saddle 
before  me.  I  have  friends  in  Anston  who  will  gladly 
lend  me  their  aid.  We  can  hire  a  carriage  after  the 
ceremony  to  take  us  to  Melton  in  time  for  the  morning 
train.  It  will  be  an  elopement— romantic  in  the  high- 


LILLIAN  IN  DANGER 


69 


est  degree.  I  will  take  you  to  the  large  cities  of  our 
country  and  of  the  old  world,  and  men  shall  gaze  at 
your  regal  beauty  and  worship  at  your  feet  as  the 
queen  of  love  and  beauty;  but  I  will  alone  possess 
the  jewel  of  your  truest  love,  in  its  setting  of  entranc- 
ing loveliness.  Come,"  he  pleaded,  passionately.  As 
he  spoke  rapidly,  with  his  eyes  looking  into  her  own, 
she  had  gazed  into  his  face  with  a  fascination  very 
like  that  with  which  a  bird  gazes  at  the  snake  that 
charms  it ;  but  as  he  advanced  a  step  nearer  and  held 
out  his  arms  she  sprang  back  into  the  corner  with  a 
look  of  wildest  fear  and  unconscious  repulsion  in  her 
eloquent  eyes.  He  was  quick  to  note  the  movement 
and  the  look,  and  a  bitter  smile  played  over  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  like  the  arrangements,  the  bril- 
liant future  I  have  spread  before  you  as  my  wife. 
You  are  not  willing  to  live  with  me  and  I  cannot  live 
without  you.  Then  you  must  know  the  alternative. 
You  must  flee  with  me  to-night  or  I  will  shoot  you 
and  then  kill  myself.  That,  too,  will  create  a  sensa- 
tion—a fine  item  for  the  press  and  a  delicious  morsel 
for  the  taste  of  a  romance-loving  public !"  A  mocking 
laugh  followed  the  words.  As  she  crouched  still  closer 
to  the  corner  he  came  nearer  and,  looking  down  upon 
her  with  a  look  of  desperate  determination  in  his  eye, 
he  said  in  a  tone  which  he  strove  to  render  calm : 

"You  love  the  pale-faced  owner  of  the  Hall  and  he 
loves  you,  though  he  believes  you  a  heartless  coquette 
and  is  afraid  to  trust  his  fate  to  your  tender  mercy. 
If  he  should  deem  you  worthy  he  would  make  you 
mistress  of  the  Hall,  and  with  the  fortune  your  aunt 
will  leave  you  would  try  to  retain  his  home.  But  I 
will  thwart  his  little  game.  Never  shall  you  grace  his 
home  by  your  bewitching  beauty,  which  from  the  first 
moment  I  saw  you  has  made  me  swear  to  win  you  or 


70 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


die.  The  time  has  come  for  you  to  decide  the  question 
of  life  or  death  for  us  both.  I  will  give  you  fifteen 
minutes  by  the  watch  for  the  decision. ' '  He  took  out 
a  pistol,  which  gleamed  brightly  before  her  eyes,  and 
pointed  it  at  her.  Then  placing  his  open  watch  in  the 
palm  of  the  other  hand,  said : 

4 'You  have  but  to  utter  one  word,  'Yes,'  if  you 
consent  to  marry  me;  'No,'  if  you  prefer  death.  Think 
fast,  for  the  minutes  are  flying."  She  gave  a  look 
of  mute  appeal  into  the  stern  face  and  blazing  eyes, 
and  knew  at  once  there  was  no  mercy  to  be  expected 
from  him.  With  a  deep-drawn  sigh  she  put  her  hands 
to  her  face  and  tried  to  think,  to  decide  this  question 
of  life  and  death.  She  could  not  at  first  realize  it  in 
all  its  terrible  import.  It  seemed  like  some  awful 
dream,  some  nightmare,  from  which  she  would  awaken 
with  thankfulness.  But  when  at  last  she  felt  assured 
of  her  desperate  situation  she  sank  down  in  agony; 
soon  the  calmness  of  despair  seized  her.  She  was 
young,  and  death — such  a  death — seemed  awful  to 
her ;  but  the  thought  of  Aunt  Alice,  who  would  grieve 
so  over  her  untimely  fate,  brought  up  the  alternative. 
Would  Aunt  Alice  wish  her  to  throw  away  her  life? 
If  she  were  near,  would  she  not  counsel  her  to  save 
her  life,  even  if  it  should  be  one  of  misery?  Such 
she  felt  it  must  be  to  become  the  wife  of  a  man  who 
would  win  her  under  such  circumstances,  and  from 
whom  she  shrank  with  such  great  repulsion.  The  very 
thought  made  her  shiver  from  head  to  foot. 

"Two  minutes  more!"  came  from  his  lips.  As 
Walter  Brunette  uttered  the  words  she  looked  up,  for 
she  seemed  to  hear  a  footstep,  and  a  look  of  unutter- 
able relief  came  into  her  lovely  eyes  as  she  saw  a 
manly  form  in  the  doorway.  Brunette,  absorbed  in 
watching  her,  had  heard  no  sound ;  but  when  he  saw 


LILLIAN  IN  DANGER  71 


her  look  he  turned,  and,  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion fired,  stepped  quickly  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
the  man,  who  had  fallen  at  his  fire,  and  fled  in  the 
darkness,  almost  overturning  two  men  who  with  lan- 
terns were  hastening  to  the  scene,  attracted  by  the 
pistol  shot 


72 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Lillian's  secret. 

A  few  minutes  after  Lillian  had  left  home  to  post 
Mrs.  Stafford's  letter  Robert  Nelson  appeared  at  Mosk 
Side,  the  bearer  of  a  note  from  Helen  to  Lillian  beg- 
ging her  to  come  to  the  Hall  for  a  few  days,  as  Maude 
and  Vivian  Graham  were  staying  with  her,  aduing: 
4  4  And  we  all  want  you  so  much,  dear  Lillian.  We 
never  feel  our  circle  complete  without  your  presence 
to  grace  it.  Now,  get  ready  and  come  right  back  with 
Buddie." 

Mrs.  Stafford  said  Lillian  would  soon  be  back,  as 
she  knew  she  wrould  hurry  on  account  of  the  storm 
which  was  approaching.  It  was  with  much  alarm 
Mrs.  Stafford  saw  the  storm  increase  in  intensity,  and 
Lillian  did  not  return.  Robert  finally  succeeded  in 
quieting  her  for  a  time  by  saying  he  was  quite  sure 
Lillian  had  foreseen  the  storm  and  remained  in 
Anston. 

"I  think  that  must  be  so,"  Aunt  Alice  finally  ad- 
mitted. "She  knows  how  very  much  afraid  of  thun- 
der and  lightning  Cloud  is.  My  dear  boy,  I  am  so 
glad  you  are  here  to  comfort  me.  Mrs.  Burke  is  one 
of  Job's  proverbial  comforters.  But  how  about  Helen! 
Is  she  frightened  by  a  storm?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 

"Not  at  all,"  Robert  replied.  "She  seems  to  enjoy 
the  grandeur  of  a  storm  like  this.  I  have  seen  her 
stand  for  hours  at  the  window  watching  the  fury  of 
the  elements  with  intense  interest." 

"I  am  glad  she  is  so  constituted.  I  am  rather 
nervous  during  such  an  exhibition  of  God's  power  as 
we  have  now.    Just  see  the  rapid,  vivid  flashes  of 


LILLIANS  SECRET  78 

lightning  and  hear  the  almost  deafening  peals  of 
thunder!  How  much  relieved  I  would  be  if  I  were 
assured  of  Lillian's  safety !"  Aunt  Alice  remarked. 

When  Jim,  who  had  been  caught  in  the  storm,  re- 
turned and  went  to  the  stables  to  put  away  the  horse 
he  rode,  he  was  surprised  to  find  Cloud  in  his  own 
stable,  saddled,  reeking  with  foam  and  almost  rigid 
with  fear.  Mrs.  Stafford's  excitement  when  Jim  came 
to  inquire  about  this  can  better  be  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. She  was  almost  wild  with  apprehension. 
Robert  Nelson,  John  Marsh,  the  manager  of  Moss 
Side,  and  Jake  Booth,  John's  brother-in-law,  who 
lived  with  him,  at  once  offered  to  go  in  search  of 
Lillian.  The  storm  had  somewhat  abated,  and  Mrs. 
Stafford  could  scarcely  be  constrained  from  accom- 
panying them,  until  Robert,  laying  his  hand  gently 
on  her  arm,  whispered : 

i  1  Dear  Auntie,  you  can  do  much  more  good  by  stay- 
ing at  home  and  praying  for  Miss  Lillian  than  by 
going  with  us." 

She  did  pray  most  earnestly,  and  who  would  dare 
say  that  fervent  petition  did  not  wing  its  way  to  the 
ear  of  the  compassionate  Father  and  find  its  answer 
in  the  safety  of  the  loved  one  who  was  in  such  ex- 
treme peril  ?  The  men  with  the  lanterns  could  scarcely 
keep  pace  with  Robert  Nelson's  hasty  steps.  They 
took  the  road  to  Anston,  and  every  dark  object  was 
examined.  Several  times  they  thought  they  had 
found  the  object  of  their  search,  but  it  proved  to  be 
some  bush  or  stump.  Just  beyond  Lover's  Leap  they 
found  a  slipper,  which  they  were  sure  was  Lillian's. 
It  had  fallen  off  when  Cloud  gave  the  sudden  bound 
at  the  white  object  in  the  road.  This  gave  them  the 
clue  to  her  being  in  the  woods,  and  as  Robert  Nelson 
remembered  the  hut  he  had  seen  when  hunting,  he 


74 


LILLIAN  DeVBBE 


hastened  to  it,  and  was  surprised  as  he  approached 
to  see  a  faint  light  glimmering  through  the  ereviees 
of  the  old  building.  He  arrived,  as  we  have  seen,  just 
in  time  to  rescue  Lillian  and  to  receive  Walter  Bru- 
nette's shot.  When  John  Marsh  reached  the  door  of 
the  hut  and  flashed  the  light  of  his  lantern  into  it  he 
exclaimed  in  surprise  and  horror  : 

44 By  heavens!  Jake,  that  man  in  white  has  shot 
and  killed  the  young  squire."  At  the  wrords  Lillian, 
whom  they  had  not  observed,  came  rushing  forward, 
and  with  the  words,  4 4 Oh,  Robert!  Robert!  Would 
that  I  had  died  for  thee ! ' '  fell  fainting  by  his  side. 

While  Jake  Booth  ran  out  to  get  some  water  in  his 
hat  to  revive  Lillian,  John  Marsh  proceeded  to  ex- 
amine Robert's  wound,  and  said  as  Jake  reappeared: 

4 4  It  is  not  so  bad  as  I  thought.  He  is  shot  badly  in 
the  shoulder,  but  not  dangerously,  I  think,  and  is 
stunned  by  hitting  his  head  against  a  hinge  of  the 
door  when  he  fell. '  ' 

When  Lillian  opened  her  eyes  from  her  first  fainting 
spell  she  saw  Mr.  Marsh  holding  Robert's  head  on  his 
arm  and  trying  to  put  some  spirits  between  his  lips. 
Her  large,  beautiful  eyes  sought  John's  in  mute  ap- 
peal, who  said  brightly: 

4 'He  will  soon  get  all  right,  Miss  Lillian.  I  thought 
he  was  dead,  and  scared  you  so  you  fainted.  I  didn't 
know  you  were  here.  Do  you  think  you  are  strong 
enough  to  walk  through  the  woods  to  the  road.  It  is 
not  very  far." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Lillian  tried  to  say  bravely,  but  her  lips 
quivered. 

4  4  Jake  must  go  home  and  bring  a  conveyance  and 
a  cloak  for  you  and  some  men  to  carry  Mr.  Nelson 
home.  We  can  make  a  stretcher  of  the  door.  Stop  at 
Sam  Lynch 's  on  the  way,  Jake,  and  get  him  to  go  for 


LILLIAN'S  SECRET  75 

Dr.  Graham.  Break  it  to  Miss  Alice  as  gently  as  you 
can." 

Jake  hurried  as  fast  as  he  could,  but  it  seemed  a 
long  time  to  the  silent  watchers  in  the  hut.  Mrs. 
Burke  was  commissioned  to  tell  Mrs.  Stafford  that 
Jake  had  returned  and  said  Lillian  had  sought  shelter 
in  an  old  hut  in  the  woods.  He  had  carried  the 
phaeton  to  bring  her  home,  and  that  Mr.  Nelson  had 
been  shot,  but  not  badly,  by  some  man  lurking  in  the 
woods. 

4 'They  are  going  to  bring  him  here,  and  have  sent 
for  Dr.  Graham, ' '  Mrs.  Burke  added. 

Mrs.  Stafford  never  knew  how  she  lived  through 
that  terrible  night.  It  was  many  days  before  either 
she  or  Helen  knew  all  the  dreadful  particulars.  Dr. 
Graham  pronounced  Robert's  wound  quite  a  painful 
one,  but  not  dangerous— said  the  concussion  on  his 
head  was  even  more  dangerous  than  the  wound,  but 
it  would  take  only  quiet  and  good  nursing  for  a  few 
weeks  to  get  him  all  right  again.  The  doctor  himself 
went  for  Helen  the  next  morning  and  made  so  light 
of  it  all  she  was  not  alarmed  and  excited  over  the 
affair  as  her  friends  feared  she  would  be. 

"Moss  Side  is  a  delightful  place  to  visit/ ?  the  doctor 
said,  jovially.  "Most  any  of  us  men  would  be  willing 
to  have  a  slight  wound  to  get  an  excuse  to  stay  there 
for  awhile.  Miss  Lillian  is  so  beautiful,  she  can  charm 
away  pain  with  her  lovely  smiles,  and  Mrs.  Stafford  is 
so  delightfully  pleasant  and  kind  she  can  nurse  any- 
body back  to  health."  Helen  smiled  a  little  at  his  en- 
thusiasm. Dr.  Graham  was  a  widower,  and  she  re- 
membered Madam  Rumor  had  said  he  had  tried  to  get 
Mrs.  Stafford  to  console  him  for  the  loss  of  his  wife, 
and  had  failed. 

The  next  morning  after  the  tragic  events  at  the  old 
building  in  the  woods  John  Marsh  and  Jake  Booth 


76 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


had  gone  to  Cuckoo's  Nest  and  inquired  for  Walter 
Brunette.  The  housekeeper  said  he  had  come  and 
stayed  one  day,  but  had  left  on  the  evening  train  of 
the  preceding  day.  Of  course,  the  men  knew  better, 
but,  thinking  perhaps  the  housekeeper  did  not,  they 
left  a  letter  to  be  sent  to  his  address,  in  which  he  was 
warned  not  to  show  himself  in  the  neighborhood  again, 
as  those  who  knew  of  his  dastardly  act  were  highly 
incensed  against  him,  and  would  not  fail  to  wreak 
vengeance  upon  him  if  they  could  catch  him. 

Robert  Nelson  soon  rallied  from  the  effects  of  his 
wounds  and  seemed  greatly  to  enjoy  his  convalescence 
at  Moss  Side. 

Lillian  had  never  seen  him  so  gay,  so  light-hearted. 
The  burden  of  responsibility  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
fallen  from  his  shoulders,  and  his  laugh  rang  out  as 
merrily  as  if  there  was  no  such  thing  as  dull  care  in 
the  wrorld.  Indeed,  after  that  eventful  night  Lillian 
and  Robert  seemed  to  have  changed  dispositions. 
While  Robert  laughed,  sang  and  played  games  with 
much  zest,  Lillian,  usually  so  joyous  and  sunny  ~na- 
tured,  became  pensive  and  subdued  in  her  manners. 

Aunt  Alice  often  surprised  her  in  a  reverie,  some- 
times with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  would  evade  her 
question  when  she  begged  to  know  the  cause.  Dr. 
Graham  said  it  was  the  consequence  of  the  overtension 
of  nerves  resulting  from  her  experience  at  the  hut, 
and  would  gradually  wear  away ;  but  it  seemed  to  in- 
crease rather  than  diminish,  though  Mrs.  Stafford 
made  every  effort  to  restore  her  to  her  former  buoy- 
ancy. When  in  company  she  tried  hard  to  be  her 
former  self,  but  it  was  evident  it  was  an  effort  and 
her  heart  was  not  in  it.  The  truth  was,  Walter  Bru- 
nette's words  that  fateful  night,  "You  love  the  pale- 
faced  owner  of  the  Hall,'"  and  the  despair  that  had 
seized  her  when  she  thought  him  dead,  had  revealed 


LILLIAN'S  SECRET 


77 


to  her  the  fact  that  she  loved  Robert  Nelson— not  as 
she  had  loved  Gerald  Lemoine,  with  a  sort  of  girlisK 
fancy,  but  with  all  the  strength  of  her  womanly  na- 
ture—with the  one  love  of  her  life.  The  very  thought 
of  it  humiliated  her.  She  had  given  her  love  unsought 
to  one  who  deemed  her  unworthy  of  it— to  one  who 
had  taken^great  pains  to  show  her  he  did  not  wish  even 
her  friendship.  With  startling  emphasis  Gerald  Le- 
moine's  words  came  ringing  through  memory's  halls— 
1 ' Mark  my  prediction.  The  time  will  come  when  the 
measure  you  are  meting  out  to  me  will  be  measured 
to  you  again ;  when  you  will  love  as  I  do  and  your  love 
will  be  as  little  valued  as  mine  now  is. ' 9  Had  not  his 
prediction  come  true,  and  was  it  not  a  retaliation  for 
treating  Lemoine  as  she  did  ?  She  could  not  have  left 
Aunt  Annie  sigk,  but  could  she  not  have  been  kinder, 
gentler  with  him  when  he  was  suffering  for  love  of 
her?  This  secret  must  be  kept  safely  locked  in  her 
own  breast,  and  no  one  must  suspect  it.  She  must 
crush  it,  if  her  heart  was  broken  by  the  effort.  A  hot 
flush  always  mounted  to  her  brow  when  she  remem- 
bered her  involuntary  exclamation  when  she  thought 
Robert  was  dead.  Did  the  men  notice  Jit  or  did  they 
attribute  it  only  to  the  excitement  of  the  moment? 
She  could  but  hope  the  latter.  One  evening  Robert 
said  with  a  fond  look  at  Mrs.  Stafford : 

"Auntie,  I  must  leave  you  to-morrow.  It  almost 
makes  me  blush  to  think  I  am  unwilling  to  go  home 
after  taxing  your  hospitality  and  kindness  so  long, 
but  I  cannot  frame  even  an  excuse  to  stay  longer.  I 
am  afraid  I  would  try  to  do  so  if  I  did  not  know  my 
presence  is  needed  at  the  Hall.  It  will  soon  be  harvest 
time,  and  I  must  make  arrangements  for  gathering 
and  saving  the  crops.  But,  Auntie,  I  do  hate  to  leave 
you  all.   I,  who  have  never  been  sick  before,  have  so 


78 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


much  enjoyed  being  waited  on  like  a  prince  by  you, 
Auntie,  and  petted  like  a  baby  by  Mrs.  Burke  and 
Helen,  and  last,  but  far  from  least,  have  had  Miss 
Lillian  to  sing  my  favorite  ballads.  Who  would  not 
be  willing  to  be  sick  to  have  such  a  delightful  experi- 
ence?" 


HOW  HE  WON  HER 


79 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOW  HE  WON  HER, 

Autumn  drew  on  apace.  The  time  of  harvesting 
came  and  went.  The  crops  had  been  unusually  plente- 
ous, especially  at  the  Hall.  The  result  of  Robert  Nel- 
son's personal  supervision  and  wise  management  was 
plainly  visible,  and  his  wise  and  prudent  disposition  of 
his  produce  made  it  profitable  beyond  his  expectation, 
and  greatly  encouraged  him.  One  evening  as  Mrs. 
Stafford  and  Helen  stood  at  an  open  window  at  the 
Hall  watching  the  horses  draw  the  heavily  laden 
wagons  to  the  barns  and  cribs,  Helen  exclaimed : 

"  Auntie,  I  am  just  as  proud  of  Buddie's  being  a 
good  farmer  as  if  he  were  a  physician  like  papa  and 
grandpapa.  Papa  wanted  Buddie  to  be  a  farmer  and 
restore  the  fields  of  the  Hall  to  their  former  fertility. 
You  know,  with  the  exception  of  grandpa  and  papa,  all 
our  race  on  their  side  have  been  farmers,  and  took 
great  pride  in  their  management  of  the  estate.  That 
was  one  reason  Uncle  Henri  did  not  wish  mamma  to 
marry  papa,  because  he  said  the  Nelsons  were  tillers 
of  the  soil.  You  ought  to  have  seen  Buddie  draw  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height  when  uncle  said  that,  and 
declare  he  intended  to  be  a  manager  of  the  estate,  as 
his  ancestors  had  been,  and  would  be  proud  of  an  oc- 
cupation both  useful  and  ennobling  if  rightly  pur- 
sued. I  feared  uncle  would  get  mad,  but  he  didn't 
seem  to.  I  think  he  respected  Buddie  more  for  ex- 
pressing himself  so  bravely,  in  spite  of  his  opposition. 
I  used  to  be  afraid  of  angering  him,  but  Buddie 
wasn't  at  all.  Don't  you  think  Buddie  deserves  praise, 
Auntie?" 


80 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


6  i  Certainly  I  do,  my  dear.  I  think  Robert  is  a  noble 
representative  of  a  noble  race.  I  have  always  loved 
him  as  if  he  were  a  nephew  in  reality  as  well  as  in 
name. ' ' 

"Yes,  dear  Auntie,  we  both  love  you  as  if  you  were 
our  own  dear  Auntie  and  Lillian  as  if  she  was  really 
our  cousin.  By  the  way,  Auntie,  why  does  Lillian 
refuse  my  every  invitation  to  the  Hall  lately?  She 
always  makes  some  excuse  for  not  coming.  Now,  this 
evening  she  has  gone  to  Dr.  Graham's,  when  I  wanted 
to  see  her  so  very  much,  and  had  anticipated  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  you  both." 

"Well,  my  dear,  Maude  and  Vivian  wrote  for  her 
first,  and  she  had  promised  to  go.  Now,  don't  be 
jealous.  Lillian  loves  you  just  as  dearly  as  she  ever 
did,  and  will  come  over  soon." 

But  Lillian  was  in  a  strait  in  regard  to  the  position 
in  which  she  found  herself.  She  knew  Aunt  Alice 
watched  her  closely.  How  could  she  keep  her  and 
others  from  discovering  her  secret,  of  which  she  felt 
so  ashamed?  How  could  she  be  as  "wise  as  a  serpent 
and  yet  as  harmless  as  a  dove?"  Robert  Nelson 
thought  her  a  heartless  coquette,  unworthy  of  the  love 
she  had  so  unconsciously  given  him.  Why  should  he 
so  esteem  her?  She  had  in  no  way  knowingly,  by 
word,  look  or  act,  tried  to  win  his  love.  His  very  cool- 
ness and  reticence  to  her,  if  nothing  else,  had 
saved  her  from  such  unmaidenly  conduct.  His 
very  reserve  had  been  her  safeguard,  and  from 
her  heart  she  thanked  and  honored  him  for  it. 
"Deeming  me  the  despicable  creature  he  did, 
it  showed  his  manliness  not  to  attempt  to  flirt 
with  me."  She  would  be  as  cool  to  him  as  he 
had  been  to  her  and  strive  to  show  an  indifference  she 
did  not  feel,  but  which  she  earnestly  desired  to  feel 


HOW  HE  WON  HER 


81 


towards  one  who  esteemed  her  not.  Fearing  Aunt 
Alice  might  find  out  the  state  of  her  feelings,  she  as- 
sumed a  gayety  that  was  really  an  effort  to  her;  but 
Mrs.  Stafford,  who  had  studied  her  as  a  loving  mother 
studies  her  child,  was  as  much  puzzled  as  ever  to  know 
the  cause  of  the  change  in  Lillian.  Once  when  Aunt 
Alice  seemed  more  than  usually  anxious  about  her, 
Lillian  put  her  arms  lovingly  around  her  and  said : 

"Auntie,  dear,  don't  trouble  the  least  bit  about  me. 
I  am  no  longer  a  child—a  careless,  pleasure-loving 
child — but  I  seem  suddenly  to  have  become  a  woman, 
with  some  sense  of  a  woman's  responsibility  in  life. 
With  most  girls  the  change  is  a  gradual  one ;  but  with 
me  it  has  been  a  sudden  awakening.  I  am  praying 
God  to  show  me  my  life  work— as  the  Psalmist  ex- 
presses it,  4  To  cause  me  to  know  the  way  wherein  I 
should  walk.'  I  have  heretofore  been  only  a  butter- 
fly, content  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  that  came  to  me. 
Now  I  want  to  be  a  worker  in  His  vineyard,  accom- 
plishing something  in  life  worthy  of  being  called 
duty.',  Mrs.  Stafford  looked  at  her  anxiously  and 
said  earnestly : 

"My  dear  Lillian,  your  path  of  duty  lies  in  my 
home,  to  comfort  and  cheer  my  declining  days ;  to  be 
a  companion  to  me  in  my  loneliness ;  to  help  me  be  a 
better  neighbor  by  giving  of  my  substance  to  the  needy 
and  my  sympathy  and  help  to  the  down-hearted  and 
desolate,  thus  fulfilling  the  law  of  my  Divine  Master. 
That  is  your  duty  until  you  shall  go  to  a  home  of  your 
own,  to  be  a  crown  of  joy  to  your  husband.7' 

"I  never  expect  to  marry,  Aunt  Alice,' y  Lillian  said 
firmly. 

* Tut,  tut,  Lillian.  Man/  a  girl  says  that  at  your 
age  who  is  a  beloved  wiie  and  mother  at  twenty-five. 
Stop  all  that  moralizing  and  theorizing  and  leave  the 
future  to  God,  who,  if  we  let  Him,  will  gradually  to- 


82 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


fold  to  us  the  duties  of  life  as  the  buds  of  the  lily  un- 
fold day  by  day,  bringing  the  lovely  petals  to  per- 
fection. Rude  hands  that  try  to  hasten  the  unf  olding 
mar  its  beauty,  and  it  is  never  the  perfect  flower  it 
would  have  become.' 9 

She  bent  over  and  kissed  the  lovely  girl,  whose 
beauty  had  unfolded  to  her  admiring  eyes  until  she 
felt  extremely  proud  of  her  protege,  fairer  than  any 
flower  earth  ever  knew. 

Lillian  smiled  with  satisfaction  one  evening  when 
she  overheard  Mrs.  Burke  say  to  Mrs.  Stafford  s 

"Miss  Alice,  isn't  it  strange  Miss  Lillian  and  Mr. 
Nelson  don't  seem  to  like  each  other?  I  used  to  think 
they  would  just  suit— the  one  so  lovely  and  sweet, 
the  other  so  manly  and  true." 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Stafford  answered;  "they  have  never 
seemed  to  be  friendly  with  each  other.  I  can  only 
explain  it  by  what  often  occurs.  If  we  hear  a  great 
deal  of  praise  given  a  person,  we  are  apt  to  be  dis- 
appointed on  meeting  that  person— having,  perhaps, 
set  too  high  an  estimate.  There  seems  to  have  been  a 
mutual  disappointment  in  the  case  of  Lillian  and  Rob- 
ert, and  yet  I  do  not  see  how  either  could  have  been 
disappointed  in  the  other." 

"I  do  not  see  either,"  Mrs.  Burke  said,  "for  Miss 
Lillian  is  lovelier  than  anybody  could  ever  describe 
her.  I  used  to  see  Mr.  Robert  look  at  her  very  ad- 
miringly when  he  was  here  wounded,  but  he  looked! 
like  he  didn't  want  anybody  to  see  him." 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Burke,  you  mistook  his  looks,"  Lillian 
said,  mentally,  as  the  words  came  to  her  on  the  soft 
autumnal  air.  "I  ought  not  to  have  listened,  but  I 
didn't  hear  the  evil  the  eavesdropper  usually  hears 
of  himself. ' ' 

Mrs.  Stafford  with  a  view  to  bring  back  Lillian's 


HOW  HE  WON  HER 


83 


former  spirits,  arranged  to  have  a  play  at  Moss  Side. 
It  was  entitled  4  '  How  He  Won  Her. 9 9  Lillian  was  the 
heroine  and  Paul  Graham,  who  was  at  home  on  a 
visit,  was  the  hero,  who  after  many  trials  and  diffi- 
culties wins  the  lady  of  his  undying  love.  There  were 
nights  of  rehearsal,  which  the  young  people  greatly 
enjoyed.  As  Robert  Nelson  and  Helen  were  characters 
in  the  play,  they  were  often  at  Moss  Side.  In  her  in- 
terest in  the  play  Lillian  seemed  herself  again.  She 
had  begged  not  to  be  the  heroine,  but  when  they  all 
insisted  so  strongly  upon  it  she  entered  into  it  with 
all  the  zest  of  her  intense  nature.  At  last  the  final 
night  came.  All  the  neighbors  were  gathered  at  Moss 
Side  in  eager  expectancy.  Lillian  was  ready  and  hur- 
riedly descended  the  stairs  to  the  dining  room  to  get 
some  flowers  she  had  left  there  in  water  and  which 
she  was  to  hold  in  her  hand  in  one  of  the  acts.  In- 
tent upon  her  purpose,  with  a  bright  smile  upon  her 
lips,  she  did  not  notice  there  was  an  occupant  in  the 
room.  Robert  Nelson  had  gone  to  the  dining  roomf 
for  a  chair  and  had  just  secured  it  when  Lillian  came 
in,  a  vision  of  such  perfect  loveliness,  he  lost  his  pru- 
dence, his  timidity,  he  had  long  before  lost  his  heart, 
and  coming  forward  with  a  look  in  his  eye  Lillian  had 
never  seen  there,  said: 

' i  Don 't  let  me  startle  you,  Miss  Lillian.  But  I  must 
ask  you  a  question  to-night  upon  which  my  future  hap- 
piness depends.  I  love  you,  my  angel,  love  you  as  I 
think  no  man  ever  loved  before.  I  have  tried  so  hard 
to  hide  it  until,  like  the  Spartan  boy's  fox,  it  is  con- 
suming my  very  life.  Darling,  tell  me  is  there  any 
hope  for  me?  Can  I  win  you,  my  peerless  one?  If 
there  is  any  hope  give  me  one  of  the  rosebuds  from 
your  taper  fingers  and  it  will  make  me  happier  than 
any  monarch  upon  his  throne." 


84 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


A  light  had  broken  over  Lillian's  face  as  she  heard 
this  avowal  of  love  so  unexpected.  There  was  not  a 
minute  to  lose.  They  were  awaiting  her  and  would 
come  to  seek  her.  Her  eloquent  eyes  sought  his  with 
a  shy  glance.  What  she  saw  there  must  have  satis- 
fied her,  for  selecting  a  bud  she  held  it  to  him  and 
sped  away. 

Over  Robert  Nelson's  face  broke  a  light  that  made 
him  look  radiantly  happy.  He  kissed  the  bud  fondly 
as  he  whispered,  "Beautiful  emblem,  pure  and  spot- 
less, perfect  of  its  kind,  as  she  who  bids  me  hope  is  per- 
fect in  the  perfection  of  womanhood.  They  told  me 
she  was  untrue,  that  she  used  her  brilliant  and  en- 
trancing beauty  to  ensnare  hearts.  How  could  I  have 
believed  such  heartlessness  could  exist  in  one  so  be- 
loved by  her  own  sex?  If  I  can  only  win  her  how  in- 
expressibly happy  I  shall  be,  how  very  happy  Helen 
will  be!" 

At  that  moment  Helen  appeared,  exclaiming : 

"Buddie,  I  have  looked  for  you  everywhere.  Here 
you  are  admiring  one  of  Lillian's  most  beautiful  buds 
which  you  have  stolen  from  her.  Let  me  pin  it  on  your 
lapel  if  you  must  have  it." 

Then  with  a  bright  look  she  asked,  "Isn't  Lillian  ex- 
quisitely lovely  to-night?  Oh,  brother,  if  you  could 
only  win  the  priceless  jewel  of  her  pure  love ! ' ' 

The  play  was  a  perfect  success.  Lillian  had  never 
looked  so  lovely.  There  was  a  soft  light  in  her  mag- 
netic eyes  and  a  joyous  brightness  irradiated  her  beau- 
tiful features  to  which  her  assumed  gayety  was  as 
dross  to  pure  gold.  The  most  enthusiastic  applause 
greeted  her  every  appearance  on  the  stage. 

Aunt  Alice  noticed  the  change  in  Lillian  and  mistak- 
ing the  cause  said  mentally— 


HOW  HE  WON  HER  85 

"It  was  excitement  Lillian  needed.  The  quiet  lone- 
line^  must  be  stagnation  to  a  bright  young  life  like 
hers.  I  have  been  very  selfishly  happy  with  her  and 
have  never  felt  till  to-night  how  selfish  I  have  been. 
Moss  Side  must  become  the  social  center  it  used  to  be, 
and  not  the  cage  of  my  sweet  bird  that  pines  for  free- 
dom.' * 


86 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  FORGED  LETTER. 

The  next  morning  after  the  play  Lillian  received 
a  note  from  Robert  Nelson,  stating  that  business  of  im- 
portance would  call  him  from  home  for  a  few  days, 
deeply  regretting  the  necessity  of  leaving  her  when 
she  had  given  him  a  right  to  hope  for  success  in  win- 
ning her.  Her  eyes  shone  resplendent  and  the  car- 
nation of  her  cheeks  deepened  as  she  read  his  words 
of  impassiond  love.  She  sat  with  a  happy  smile  on  her 
lips  when  Mrs.  Stafford  entered. 

''Lillian,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  help  me  think 
of  some  other  amusement.  The  young  people  need  rec- 
reation and  all,  both  young  and  old,  enjoyed  the  play 
very  much.   What  shall  it  be  next?" 

After  some  deliberation,  it  was  decided  there  should 
be  a  picnic  down  the  river.  It  was  lovely  Indian  sum- 
mer weather.  It  would  be  delightful  to  spend  the  day 
on  the  banks  and  fish  or  row  at  will.  Lillian  entered 
into  it  with  unwonted  enthusiasm.  The  world  was  so 
beautiful  to  her  to-day,  so  full  of  brightness.  Love's 
sweet  dream  had  been  realized  and  Cupid  had  with  his 
strange,  invisible  power  transmuted  the  common  real- 
ities of  life  into  golden  possibilities.  She  wondered 
if  anybody  had  ever  been  so  happy  before.  Robert 
had  loved  her  after  all.  While  she  was  striving  with 
all  her  might  to  crush  her  love  for  him,  he  had  been 
striving  to  hide  his  love  from  her.  How  many  mo- 
ments of  sadness  and  doubt  they  would  have  saved 
each  other  if  they  had  only  understood.  He  would 
be  back  in  time  for  the  picnic  and  that  fact  promised 
enjoyment  to  her.    If  only  he  would  be  near,  if  she 


THE  FORGED  LETTER  87 


could  look  into  the  fine  eyes  and  noble  face  that  had 
become  so  dear  to  her,  the  picnic  wonld  be  a  success 
to  her  at  least. 

The  day  arrived.  It  was  an  ideal  day  for  a  picnic, 
and  soon  all  the  young  people  were  on  their  way  to  a 
place  called  ' 'Beau  Catcher/ '  because  it  had  been  the 
scene  of  so  many  similar  occasions  which  had  resulted 
in  marriages. 

Robert  and  Helen  were  there  when  the  party  from 
Moss  Side  arrived.  Robert  had  returned  home  the 
night  before.  Such  a  day  they  had,  crowded  with 
pleasure,  every  moment  bringing  with  it  something 
pleasant  to  remember  afterwards.  There  was  rowing 
on  the  river,  and  fishing  and  games,  and  singing  on  the 
banks,  smiles  and  laughter  everywhere.  As  usual  Lil- 
lian was  the  center  of  every  gay  group,  the  admired  of 
all  admirers. 

Paul  Graham  was  her  shadow.  The  play  had  made 
him  a  victim  of  her  many  charms  and  had  awakened 
in  him  a  great  desire  to  win  her.  Robert  Nelson,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  felt  very  cross  to  Paul,  who 
had  from  boyhood  been  one  of  his  best  friends.  He 
could  not  find  a  moment  to  be  alone  with  Lillian  until 
just  before  the  time  for  leaving,  then  whispering 
words  of  love  and  promising  to  be  over  early  the  next 
morning  they  separated,  but  Lillian's  bright,  sweet 
smile  lingered  with  him  and  made  Helen  ask,  as  they 
drove  home,  "Brother,  what  makes  you  so  happy?  I 
have  been  watching  you  and  have  never  seen  you  look 
so  bright." 

"A  secret,  my  dear  little  sister,  which  I  will  tell  you 
in  the  future.' 9 

Helen  sighed.  She  thought  it  must  be  connected 
with  his  going  from  home  and  she  had  hoped  so  earn- 
estly that  Buddie  would  love  and  win  Lillian.  Robert 


88 


LILLIAN  DbVERR 


was  too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts  to  notice  Helen's 
sadness  and  so  she,  too,  suffered  from  not  understand* 
ing  the  state  of  feeling  between  the  two  lovers. 

The  next  morning  Robert  came  early  and  toot  Lil- 
lian for  a  row  upon  the  river.  It  was  a  glorious  day 
for  happy  lovers.  The  weather  was  superb  and  the 
scene  one  of  extraordinary  beauty.  The  water 
Hashed  like  molten  silver  and  the  spray  that  rose  from 
the  splashing  oars  catching  the  slanting  sunbeams  was 
like  a  shower  of  tiny  pearls.  The  glancing  water  re- 
flected the  light  as  if  it  were  draped  with  liquid  mir- 
rors, while  the  wild  vines  climbing  the  great  trees  on 
the  river  bank  hung  over  the  water  like  a  canopy  of 
green  and  gold.  Lillian  was  a  dear  lover  of  nature 
in  her  softer  moods  and  her  eyes  often  rested  admir- 
ingly upon  the  beautiful  scene,  but  Robert  Nelson  had 
no  eyes  save  for  the  sweet  face  before  him  with  its  won- 
drous loveliness  of  feature  and  expression— the  fairest 
picture  he  had  ever  looked  upon,  and  she  had  promised 
to  give  her  life  into  his  keeping.  How  his  heart  beat 
exultant  at  the  thought,  and  yet  in  his  pocket  lay  a 
letter  which  if  penned  by  the  small  shapely  hand 
playing  in  the  water,  would  turn  his  joy  into  despair. 

Looking  into  the  lovely  eyes,  sparkling  with  pleas- 
ure, but  meeting  his  with  the  soft,  shy  look  of  young 
love,  how  could  he  mistrust  her?  He  would  not.  He 
would  believe  in  her  with  all  the  strength  of  a  man's 
faith  for  the  woman  he  loves,  and  he  gave  himself  up 
fully  to  the  enjoyment  of  being  with  the  object  of  his 
deepest,  purest  affection. 

He  told  her  as  he  returned  to  the  house  that  he  must 
tell  Auntie  and  obtain  her  sanction  to  their  engage- 
ment. 

With  a  deep  blush,  she  fled  to  her  room  on  reaching 
the  door  and  Robert  went  to  find  Mrs.  Stafford.  He 


THE  FORGED  LETTER 


89 


found  her  busy  with  her  domestic  duties,  but  she  will- 
ingly put  them  all  aside  to  listen  to  something  import- 
ant that  "her  boy"  wanted  to  say  to  her.  First  he 
took  from  his  pocket  a  letter  written  in  a  small  deli- 
cate hand  and  signed  "Lillian  De  V."  Holding  the 
signature  to  Auntie  he  asked  her  if  Lillian  wrote  it. 

"I  think  she  did,"  Mrs.  Stafford  replied,  surprised 
at  the  question.  '  '  It  looks  like  her  writing  and  that  is 
her  signature,  but  what  is  it  and  why  do  you  ask  ? ' ' 

' 1 1  found  this  sheet  of  a  letter  on  the  road  from  Mel- 
ton one  evening  about  two  months  ago.  Read  it  and 
then  see  if  you  think  Miss  Lillian  wrote  it." 

Mrs.  Stafford  read  with  dilating  eyes:  "Yes,  dear 
Walter,  it  may  be  dangerous  to  play  with  fire  as  you 
suggest,  but  rest  assured  I  am  fire-proof  in  that  di- 
rection. I  shall  never  be  content  until  I  shall  have 
the  proud  aristocrat  of  the  Hall  at  my  feet.  I  am 
courting  his  weak  little  sister,  shall  make  love  to  her 
and  then  with  that  show  of  innocent  artlessness  in 
which  you  say  I  am  an  adept,  will  strive  to  win  his 
love,  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  breaking  his 
heart.  Though  he  holds  his  head  so  high,  and  treats 
me  so  coolly  as  if  I  were  unworthy  of  his  love,  he  shall 
yet  bend  to  the  power  of  my  beauty  by  which  so  many 
men  have  been  victimized.  But  don't  be  jealous,  dear 
Walter,  you  are  my  only,  my  best  beloved.  You  will 
understand  the  game  and  ought  to  watch  it  with  keen 
interest,  as  you  seem  never  to  have  liked  the  man. 
Now,  dear,  let  me  have  my  way  about  this  and  when  I 
am  yours  you  will  exult  in  having  won  me  from  so 
many  competitors. 

Fondly  yours, 

Lillian  De  V/' 

Mrs.  Stafford  looked  up  after  reading  it  through 
with  an  angry  gleam  in  the  usually  mild  eyes. 


90 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


"It  is  a  base  fabrication.  Nothing  so  unwomanly 
ever  emanated  from  Lillian's  pure  heart,  nor  was  ever 
penned  by  her  dear  hand.  It  is  Walter  Brunette's 
vile  work.  He  imitated  her  writing  and  threw  it  in 
your  way.  I  doubt  not,  was  concealed  behind  some 
rock  to  see  that  you  picked  it  up  and  exulted  in  the 
seeming  success  of  his  scheme  to  keep  you  from  lov- 
ing Lillian.  Rest  assured  she  is  as  innocent  of  this  as 
I  am." 

"I  am  quite  convinced  of  it  now,  but  I  confess  it 
taxed  my  faith  in  her  severely  when  I  first  found  it, 
especially  after  comparing  it  with  a  note  to  Helen 
written  on  paper  exactly  like  the  letter  and  in  a  hand 
apparently  a  counterpart  of  it.  Then,  too,  I  had 
heard  before  I  saw  her  that  Lillian  was  a  flirt.  It 
came  from  Walter  Brunette  and  wras  a  part  of  his  plot, 
doubtless.  One  day  just  before  the  occurrence  at  the 
hut  I  saw  in  a  paper  that  an  expert  in  writing  was 
in  the  city.  As  I  had  business  that  would  have  taken 
me  there  in  a  few  days,  I  made  no  delay  in  consulting 
him.  Without  her  knowledge  I  took  a  note  from 
Helen  \s  work-box  and  with  the  two  sought  the  expert, 
who  after  a  careful  examination,  said,  4  It  is  a  good 
imitation,  but  was  not  wrritten  by  the  same  hand.' 
Then  he  showed  me  the  difference  in  the  formation 
of  several  letters  which  I  had  not  noticed.  At  last 
he  said  after  another  examination,  'If  I  mistake  not 
the  letter  was  written  by  a  man,  and  the  note  by  a 
lady,  but  the  imitation  was  skillfully  executed. ' 

"I  felt  somewhat  relieved  but  was  not  convinced 
until  the  night  at  the  old  building.  As  I  stepped 
upon  the  threshold,  I  seemed  to  take  in  the  whole  situ- 
ation at  a  glance.  The  light  that  broke  over  the 
agonized  white  face  at  sight  of  me,  made  me  know 
she  was  in  mortal  fright  of  the  man  whom  the  letter 
purported  she  loved.     When  I  lay  here  wounded, 


THE  FORGED  LETTER 


91 


often  seemingly  unconscious,  I  was  trying  to  think  it 
all  out,  and  when  I  became  better  and  lingered  in  your 
home  it  was  to  study  the  home  life  of  one  to  whom 
I  felt  I  had  unconsciously  given  my  first,  my  only 
love.  I  felt  assured  then  that  I  had  misjudged  her. 
But  even  then  I  was  afraid  to  offer  myself  to  her,  tho ' 
my  heart  was  so  full  of  love  for  her.  I  felt  sometimes 
like  throttling  Paul  Graham  when  he  was  making 
love  to  her  in  the  play.  The  night  of  the  play  when 
I  saw  her  in  her  entrancing  beauty,  every  barrier  of 
distrust  went  down  before  the  purity  that  shone  from 
her  clear,  wondrous  eyes  and  I  declared  my  love.  She 
bade  me  hope  and  I  am  come  to-day  to  ask  your  sanc- 
tion to  our  engagement.  I  thought,  however,  to 
make  assurance  doubly  sure,  I  would  show  you  the 
letter  and  get  your  opinion  of  it." 
Mrs.  Stafford  thoughf  ully  said : 

''Robert,  my  word  is  not  sufficient  proofs  In  such 
a  momentous  question  in  which  the  happiness  of  two 
lives  is  involved  there  must  be  no  doubt  of  each 
other  underlying  the  foundation  of  your  future.  You 
must  learn  from  Lillian 's  lips  the  falsity  of  this  let- 
ter, which  so  strongly  attacks  her  character.  I  have 
never  in  all  my  intercourse  with  her  known  her  to  de- 
viate in  any  way  from  the  truth.  Her  guileless  na- 
ture seemed  to  revolt  from  the  courtesy  with  which 
she  was  from  the  nature  of  things  compelled  to  treat 
Walter  Brunette.  She  mistrusted  and  feared  him 
and  it  was  almost  torture  to  her  to  have  to  receive  his 
attentions  when  she  found  he  was  wooing  her." 

"No,  no!  Auntie,  I  am  satisfied,  don't  let's  trou- 
ble her  with  a  thought  of  what  we  are  assured  is 
that  villain's  plot." 

"Let  me  manage  it,"  Mrs.  Stafford  said.  "I  will 
not  give  her  unnecessary  pain," 


92 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Lillian  was  called  and  came  in  blushing,  expecting 
Aunt  Alice's  congratulation  on  her  choice.  Instead 
Aunt  Alice  asked:  4 4 Lillian,  have  you  ever  written 
Walter  Brunette  any  love  letters? " 

Lillian  paled  a  little  as  she  always  did  when  Walter 
Brunette's  name  was  called,  but  she  answered  at  once 
firmly : 

"AVhy,  no,  Aunt  Alice,  I  have  never  written  him  a 
line,  except  to  accept  or  decline  his  attentions  or 
tiianks  ior  some  favor  he  may  have  extended." 

*  i  In  writing  those  notes  you  sent  the  whole  sheet 
of  paper,  though  there  were  but  a  few  words  on  it?" 

4 'Yes,  ma'am.  I  always  do  that.  But,  Auntie, 
why  these  questions  and  why  are  you  and  Mr.  Nelson 
so  serious  about  it?" 

"Nothing  except  that  before  he  left  the  neighbor- 
hood he  tried  to  leave  that  impression.  But  he  has 
gone  now  and  wTill  not  trouble  us  any  more.  Go  tell 
Mrs.  Burke  I  will  be  there  presently.  I  want  to  have 
a  little  talk  with  Robert  first. ' ' 

Lillian  ere  she  left  the  room  caught  the  look  of 
love  that  beamed  from  Robert's  eyes  and  her  heart 
was  very  happy.  As  she  disappeared  Robert  Nelson 
threw  the  letter  in  the  open  grate  and  as  he  watched 
it  burn  every  vestige  of  suspicion  or  mistrust  was 
banished  from  his  mind,  and  never  afterwards  entered 
there  to  destroy  his  peace.  Auntie  and  Robert  had  a 
long  and  serious  talk. 

Mrs.  Stafford  said : 

"I  am  no  match-maker,  my  boy.  I  would  not  in 
any  way  try  to  influence  those  I  love  to  enter  into  a 
bond  which  might  prove  to  be  one  of  unhappiness  to 
them.  I  think  those  only  should  marry  who  have 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion  and  they  should  make 
their  own  choice.  While  this  is  true,  I  shall  not  try 
to  conceal  the   preat  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  know 


THE  FORGED  LETTER  93 


that  you  and  Lillian  love  each  other.  I  love  you  both 
very  dearly  and  your  welfare  will  be  an  object  of 
greatest  interest  to  me.  I  confess  to  you  Lillian's  fu- 
ture has  given  me  great  concern.  Walter  Brunette's 
almost  insane  love  for  her  and  his  apparent  desire  to 
secure  her  at  all  hazards,  has  caused  me  many  a  sleep- 
less night.  My  apprehension  from  that  source  will  be 
at  an  end  when  she  becomes  your  wife.  He  -will  not 
then  dare  to  molest  her." 

"If  he  dare,"  were  Robert's  words,  spoken  with  a 
fierceness  that  foreboded  no  good  to  the  absent  man. 

"In  view  of  these  things,  Auntie,  and  as  I  have 
never  liked  long  engagements,  help  me  to  plead  with 
Lillian  to  marry  me  as  soon  as  arrangements  can  be 
made.    I  think  it  will  be  best  for  all  parties." 

Mrs.  Stafford  agreed.  Lillian  was  called  in  and  it 
ended  by  the  marriage  being  appointed  for  January 
the  seventeenth.    It  was  now  the  last  of  November. 


94 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  NOTE  OP  WARNING. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  marriage  should  be  a  very 
quiet  one.  Only  the  most  intimate  friends  of  the 
family  were  apprised  of  it  and  asked  to  keep  it  a  se- 
cret. Robert  Nelson  told  Paul  Graham  of  it  the  first 
after  Helen.  He  thought  that  young  man  was  getting 
too  much  interested  in  Lillian  for  his  own  peace  of 
mind,  and  as  a  friend,  he  wished  to  save  him  from  dis- 
appointment in  that  direction.  Paul  seemed  almost 
dazed  when  he  learned  the  truth  and  said : 

"I  know  congratulations  are  in  order,  but  I  can't 
offer  them  now.  Give  me  time,  old  friend,  give  me 
time." 

He  recovered  sufficiently  not  only  to  offer  congratu- 
lations, but  to  act  as  Robert's  best  man  on  that  im- 
portant occasion.  Like  a  true  man  he  fought  and 
conquered. 

Mrs.  Stafford  and  Lillian  took  a  short  visit  to  New 
York  to  make  necessary  arrangements.  Everything 
progressed  finely.  Robert  was  an  ardent  lover  and 
few  days  elapsed  between  his  visits  to  Moss  Side. 

Somehow  he  feared  the  treachery  of  Walter  Bru- 
nette and  was  uneasy  if  he  could  not  every  day  as- 
sure himself  of  Lillian's  safety.  One  day  he  did  not 
come  as  usual  and  Lillian  did  not  hear  from  him. 

In  the  evening  she  yielded  to  little  Joe  Marsh's  en- 
treaties to  go  fishing.  She  had  been  afraid  to  leave 
home  alone  since  Walter  Brunette's  threat,  but  she 
and  Joe,  a  boy  about  ten  years  of  age,  would  some- 
times go  to  the  boat-house  and  catch  fish,  of  which 
sport  Joe  was  very  fond.    She  was  the  more  willing  to 


THE  NOTE  OF  WARNING  95 


go  on  this  occasion  because  she  could  think  while  the 
fish  were  getting  into  the  notion  to  bite,  and  Joe  kept 
quiet  lest  he  should  scare  them  away.  As  the  sun 
began  to  sink  she  arose  to  go  home. 

"Please,  Miss  Lillian,  wait  a  little  minute  longer. 
I  have  got  a  splendid  bite  and  it's  a  big  fish,  too.  I 
felt  him  just  now." 

Smiling  at  Joe's  enthusiasm,  she  reseated  herself 
and  was  soon  deeply  engrossed  in  thought. 

*  *  Surely,  Robert  will  come  to-night, ' '  she  was  think- 
ing, with  a  soft,  happy  light  in  her  eyes.  * '  He  always 
comes  or  writes  if  he  is  not  coming. ' ' 

At  that  moment  a  slight  motion  just  behind  her  at- 
tracted her  attention  and,  looking  around  hastily,  she 
uttered  a  slight  scream  at  the  grotesque  figure  that 
met  her  eye.  It  was  a  man,  evidently  a  peddler,  for 
he  carried  a  huge  pack  on  his  back,  dressed  in  very 
coarse,  ill-fitting  garments.  His  eyes  were  concealed 
by  a  pair  of  dark  blue  double  glasses,  which  pro- 
tected both  the  front  and  sides  of  his  eyes  from  the 
light.  His  head  was  bound  about  by  a  woolen  com- 
forter which  entirely  hid  the  lower  portion  of  his  face. 
His  hat  was  drawn  down  over  his  brow  to  his  very 
eyes.  A  more  repulsive,  disagreeable  companion  could 
hardly  be  imagined,  rendered  more  frightful  by  the 
deepening  twilight.  Was  it  true  or  mere  fancy  that 
the  man's  hand  had  been  about  to  grasp  her? 

Lillian  was  greatly  frightened  and  by  a  sudden 
bound,  sprang  past  the  man,  almost  overturning  Joe, 
who  forgot  all  about  his  fish,  as  he  picked  himself  up 
and  moved  closer  to  Lillian  for  protection. 

After  a  few  minutes  to  recover  herself,  Lillian 
asked  with  assumed  coolness: 

"What  will  you  have?" 

"Any  goods  to-day?"  was  asked  in  the  tone  of  a 
foreigner. 


96 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


"No,  thank  you,"  Lillian  answered,  reassured. 
"Come,  Joe,  we  must  hurry, "  and  Joe  was  willing 
enough  to  leave  now.  She  was  about  to  hurry  off 
when  the  man  said  in  a  voice  of  command: 

"Stop,  look  at  my  goods.  I  am  in  need  and  you 
can  help  me." 

With  a  polite,  "No,  thank  you.  I  wish  no  goods 
to-day,"  she  took  from  her  purse  a  piece  of  silver,  laid 
it  in  his  hand  and  was  gone. 

She  looked  back  once  to  see  if  the  uncouth  figure 
was  pursuing  her,  for  she  felt  very  much  afraid  of 
him,  but  he  was  standing  in  the  spot  she  had  left  him. 
She  imagined  she  saw  something  like  silver  flash  in 
the  air  as  if  he  had  tossed  the  coin  she  gave  him  away, 
but  she  dismissed  the  thought  as  improbable. 

Jim  could  have  enlightened  her  on  the  subject.  He 
was  returning  from  an  errand  and  found  the  silver 
coin  in  the  road.  With  the  thought,  "Somebody's  loss 
is  my  gain, ' '  he  pocketed  it  with  a  chuckle.  Just  as  he 
reached  the  gate  of  Moss  Side,  he  heard  some  one 
give  a  low  call.  Turning  he  saw  in  the  twilight  a 
strange-looking  peddler  who  asked  if  he  could  give 
him  lodging  for  the  night  . 

"No,  sir,"  Jim  answered  quickly.  "We  don't  take 
in  any  strangers  here." 

"But  can't  you  give  me  a  place  without  the  folks  at 
the  house  knowing  it?  I  will  pay  you  well  and  be  off 
before  light. ' ' 

"If  you  try  that  game  here,  you'd  be  sorry  for  it. 
There's  a  terrible  dog  here  that  is  kept  chained  all  day 
and  let  loose  at  night  and  he'd  tear  you  to  pieces.  He 
don 't  like  such  as  you  nohow,  being,  you  know,  a  big 
dog,  like  the  folks  that  own  him.  If  you  have  plenty 
of  money  to  pay  for  a  lodging  you'd  better  go  on  to 
Anston.  Or,  if  you's  too  tired  for  that  and  got  any- 
thing to  eat,  there's  a  hut  in  the  woods  not  far  from 


THE  NOTE  OF  WARNING  97 


here  where  you  can  stay  all  night."  The  man  turned 
off  with  a  muttered  curse,  deep  and  low,  and  Jim 
looking  after  him  said: 

"The  idea  of  the  likes  of  him  staying  anywhere 
around  here  to-night.  If  Victor  could  catch  a  view 
of  him,  he'd  move  faster  than  he  is  moving.  I  don't 
like  the  looks  of  him." 

In  the  meantime  Lillian  hastened  home  so  rapidly, 
Joe  found  great  difficulty  in  keeping  pace  with  her. 
The  distance  from  the  boathouse  had  never  seemed 
so  great  before,  nor  the  lights  of  Moss  Side  so  wel- 
come. She  reached  home  panting  with  the  unusual 
exertion  and  told  Auntie  she  had  been  frightened  by 
a  strange-looking  peddler.  As  peddlers  were  rather 
common,  the  occurrence  gave  her  but  temporary 
fright,  and  as  Robert  soon  made  his  appearance  it  was 
forgotten. 

Lillian  never  knew  that  fear  of  Victor  saved  her 
from  an  attempt  at  abduction  for  which  all  plans  had 
been  carefully  laid.  Brunette,  as  a  peddler,  was  to 
bribe  some  of  the  servants  to  give  him  a  night  's  lodg- 
ing. He  knew  that  Lillian's  room  was  on  the  second 
floor  and  being  an  expert  athlete,  he  knew,  too,  he 
could  easily  climb  to  it,  and  effect  an  entrance,  after 
chloroforming  her  under  the  door.  He  could  secure 
his  prize  and  take  her  to  a  close  carriage  which  was 
in  waiting  in  the  woods  near  by.  He  had  never 
known  there  was  a  dog  and  when  he  found  out  there 
was  one  so  wTatchful  and  terrible  as  Jim  represented, 
he  was  aware  his  scheme  had  miscarried. 

About  a  week  after  as  Lillian  was  one  evening  at 
twilight  walking  the  front  porch  enjoying  the  unusual 
warmth  of  the  winter  eve,  a  colored  man  approached, 
bearing  a  letter,  and  asked  if  she  was  Miss  De  Vere. 
Being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  handed  her  the 
letter.    It  bore  her  name  and  looked  as  if  had  been 


98 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


written  very  hurriedly  by  Robert.  Fearing  that  some- 
thing had  happened  at  the  Hall,  she  asked  hastily : 

' '  Is  there  anything  wrong  at  the  Hall  ?  AVho  gave 
you  this  letter? 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am.  A  gentleman  said  if  I 
would  bring  it  and  give  it  into  your  hands  he  would 
pay  me  well  for  it.  I  'se  done  it  and  earned  my  money. 
Good  evening,  ma'am,"  and  was  gone. 

As  the  darkness  was  increasing  she  went  hastily  to 
her  room,  lighted  the  lamp  and  tore  open  her  letter. 
Every  vestige  of  color  receded  from  her  face,  leaving 
it  pale  with  surprise  and  horror,  as  she  read  the  follow- 
ing words  written  in  a  hand  she  knew  only  too  well : 

"Did  you,  my  pretty  cooing  dove,  hope  to  escape 
my  meshes?  It  is  no  fault  of  mine  that  the  man  lives 
who  rescued  you  from  me  when  you  were  about  to  con- 
sent to  be  mine.  I  shot  to  kill,  but  my  aim  was  not  so 
true  as  I  wished  it.  He  will  marry  you,  tf  he  can,  to 
please  ' Auntie,'  but  with  mistrust  in  his  heart.  He 
would  secure  the  brooch  for  its  beautiful  setting, 
though  he  suspects  the  seeming  jewel  to  be  but  a  paste. 
He  shall  not,  he  must  not  have  you— you  are  mine  I 
know  you  are  worthy  of  any  man's  love,  my  beauti- 
ful angel,  and  if  I  could  only  get  you  to  listen  calmly 
to  my  suit,  my  absorbing  love  for  you  would  soon  win 
your  love  in  return  and  we  would  be  so  happy,  love, 
so  happy,  for  you  are  mine  to  love  till  death  us  do  part 
or  unite  forever.  History  records  that  Antony  threw 
away  a  world  for  love  of  Cleopatra.  I  have  thrown 
away  the  fairest  prospects  of  the  future,  am  a  wan- 
derer from  my  home  and  may  fill  a  felon's  grave  for 
love  of  you.  As  I  told  you  I  come  of  a  stubborn,  reso- 
lute stock.  If  anyone  lives  who  would  take  you  from 
me  let  him  first  sit  down  and  count  the  cost.  You  are 
mine  and  I  will  have  you.  If  ruin  comes,  if  death 
comes,  whatever  comes,  I  will  have  you.    My  words 


THE  NOTE  OP  WARNING  99 


may  seem  wild,  men  might  adjudge  me  insane.  If  I 
am  beside  myself,  it  is  because  your  bewitching 
beauty  has  cast  a  spell  around  me  which  I  cannot 
throw  off.  I  have  reasoned  against  this  passion 
which  maddens  me.  I  have  fought  against  it  with  all 
the  power  I  have  left — all  to  no  purpose.  There  is 
but  one  being  in  all  the  world  for  me  and  that  is— you. 
Beware  lest  the  fruit  of  joy  that  now  seems  so  tempting 
to  you  shall  turn  to  apples  of  Sodom  and  become  but 
ashes  to  your  lips.    Again  I  say,  beware  I" 

After  reading  these  words  that  almost  froze  her 
heart  with  fear,  she  sat  down  and  tried  to  think  it  over 
calmly.  What  did  he  mean  ?  He  must  indeed  be  in* 
sane. 

"I  will  not  heed  them.  Robert  must  love  me  or  he 
would  not  so  often  have  told  and  shown  his  love  and 
when  I  am  once  his  wife,  with  his  protection  as  my 
safeguard,  surely  Walter  Brunette  will  come  to  his 
reason  and  cease  to  rave  so. ' ' 

Then  surely  he  would  marry  his  cousin,  who  loves 
him,  and  her  troubles  in  that  direction  would  be 
at  an  end.  In  the  meantime  she  would  try  to  be 
patient  and  not  trouble  those  she  loved  with  his  wild, 
unreasoning  words.  So  she  tossed  the  letter  into  the 
grate  and  watched  it  burn,  as  Robert  had  watched  one 
a  few  weeks  before,  penned  by  the  same  hand  for  the 
same  purpose. 

Walter  Brunette  had  written  this  letter  for  a  two- 
fold object,  after  his  attempts  at  abduction  had  been 
foiled.  In  the  first  place,  he  thought  if  Lillian  loved 
Robert  Nelson,  his  threats  against  his  safety  might 
make  her  hesitate  to  marry  the  object  of  her  love  from 
fear  of  his  vengeance.  Then,  too,  he  hoped  by  sowing 
in  her  mind  seeds  of  suspicion  in  regard  to  the  purity 
of  Nelson's  love  for  her,her  proud,  independent  nature 
might  refuse  to  unite  herself  with  one  who  she  believed 


100  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


did  not  love  her  truly.  A  drowning  man  catches  at  a 
straw  and  Brunette  knew  his  chances  of  success  with 
Lillian  were  desperate,  indeed.  As  if  to  prove  his  as- 
sertion false,  that  night  Robert  came  and  was  even 
more  than  usually  demonstrative  of  his  love.  On 
parting  with  her,  he  whispered,  rapturously — 

"My  darling,  my  beautiful,  precious  darling !" 

When  she  ascended  to  her  room,  there  was  a  fond, 
happy  smile  on  her  lips.  Walter  Brunette's  shot  had 
again  failed  of  its  desired  effect. 

The  next  time  Mr.  Nelson  came  Lillian  begged  him 
to  beware  of  Walter  Brunette. 

"Oh!  Robert!  Robert!  he  is  as  cruel  as  the  grave. 
He  will  try  to  do  you  deadly  harm.  He  has  sworn  it 
again  and  again,  against  whoever  should  come  be- 
tween him  and  his  plans.  Take  care  of  your  life,  for 
Helen's  sake  and  mine,"  she  had  pleaded  pathetically. 

He  had  calmed  her  by  the  assurance  she  desired,  but 
he  did  not  feel  afraid  of  what  he  thought  were  Bru- 
nette's idle  threats,  as  he  in  his  heart  deemed  them. 


JOY  AND  SORROW  AT  THE  HALL  101 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

JOY  AND  SORROW  AT  THE  HALL. 

The  day  of  the  marriage  approached.  The  morning 
before  that  important  event,  Helen,  with  a  bright, 
happy  face,  said: 

"  Brother,  I  have  a  letter  from  Uncle  Henri,  enclos- 
ing one  for  you.  He  wishes  you  to  pay  him  a  visit  at 
his  hotel,  as  he  is  anxious  to  know  Lillian.  I  think  he 
is  favorably  impressed  with  her,  because  I  wrote 
him  her  father  was  a  French  gentleman.  You  know 
Uncle  is  very  fond  of  'La  Belle  France'  though  our  cli- 
mate suits  his  health  better  and  Aunt  Estellc  loves 
our  country  best.  Don't  you  know  they  ,vill  be  de- 
lighted with  Lillian's  beauty  and  love  her  dearly  for 
her  sweet,  gracious  manners  and  own  lovely,  womanly 
self?" 

Her  brother  smiled  down  into  the  fair  sweet  face, 
beaming  with  enthusiasm,  as  he  answered : 

"  Nobody  can  see  our  darling  Lillian  without  lov- 
ing her.    Poor  Brunette!    I  pity  even  him!" 

"So  do  I,  Buddie,  but  I  somehow  fear  his  very 
name  since  he  attempted  to  make  Lillian  marry  him 
at  the  point  of  a  pistol.  That  was  the  act  of  a  mad- 
man and  such  a  one  is  not  responsible  for  his  acts.  I 
will  feel  relieved  when  you  shall  have  married  Lillian 
and  she  is  safe  from  his  insane  desire  to  make  her  his 
own  at  all  hazards." 

"Well,  dear,  after  to-morrow,  you  need  not  fear  on 
that  account.  He  will  never  dare  persecute  her  again, 
though  she  is  still  nervous  and  I  think  fears  more  on 
my  account  than  on  her  own,  for  I  never  leave  her 
that  she  does  not  beg  me  to  be  cautious  and  ever  on 


102 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


the  alert  against  danger  and  an  anxious  look  comes 
into  the  lovely  eyes.  She  shudders  at  the  very  men- 
tion of  his  name.    That  will  soon  be  past  now. u 

Alas !  for  human  hopes  and  expectations ! 

The  morning  of  the  marriage  dawned,  bright  and 
warm  for  the  wintry  season.  The  marriage  was  a  quiet 
one,  as  had  been  arranged.  Only  the  most  intimate 
friends  witnessed  the  impressive  ceremony  that  made 
Lillian  Robert  Nelson's  wife.  Very  lovely  the  bride 
appeared  and  very  handsome  and  manly  the  groom, 
and  many  were  the  exclamations  of  admiration,  and 
sincere  and  hearty  wrere  the  congratulations  showered 
upon  the  contracting  parties. 

Lillian's  smile  was  very  happy  and  light.  She  had 
somehow  felt  a  dread  of  Walter  Brunette  ?s  words,  lest 
he  should  at  the  last  moment  make  some  desperate  at- 
tempt to  prevent  her  marriage.  Now  that  fear  fell 
off  her  spirits  like  a  heavy  cloak,  and  she  felt  happy 
and  free  from  his  terrible  threats. 

After  the  English  breakfast  the  happy  party  set 
out  for  the  station  and  soon  Robert  and  Lillian  were 
on  their  way  to  New  York. 

After  a  short  stay  there  they  went  to  visit  Uncle 
Henri  and  his  wife,  who  boarded  in  a  fine  hotel  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  The  old  people  both  fell  in 
love  at  first  sight  with  Lillian's  beauty,  and  when  they 
learned  the  sweetness  and  gentleness  of  her  disposi- 
tion, which  was  united  with  the  French  vivacity  that 
Uncle  Henri  said  threw  a  golden  sheen  over  her 
other  charms,  their  admiration  was  unbounded. 

Their  stay  there  was  most  delightful.  The  old  peo- 
ple were  never  tired  of  planning  pleasures  for  the 
young  couple  and  seemed  themselves  to  renew  their 
youth  in  their  enjoyment  of  the  appreciation  of  their 
kindness. 

When  they  left  Robert  was  the  recipient  of  a  hand- 


JOY  AND  SORROW  AT  THE  HALL  103 


some  check  and  Lillian  was  made  very  happy  by  Mrs. 
Devereux's  gift  to  her  of  an  antique,  but  very  costly, 
brooch,  set  in  jewels  of  the  first  water. 

After  a  honeymoon  of  three  weeks,  Robert  and  Lil- 
lian returned  to  their  home  and  after  an  informal  re- 
ception at  the  Hall,  everyone  there  settled  down  to 
the  quiet  of  a  peaceful  life.  All  who  knew  Robert 
and  Lillian  predicted  for  them  a  happy  future.  What 
bright  prospects  were  theirs! 

Mrs.  Stafford  had  told  Eobert  she  would  help  him 
with  her  private  fortune  in  any  time  of  need,  and  this 
assurance  with  Uncle  Henri's  check  relieved  him  from 
all  present  embarrassment. 

For  six  months  there  were  two  happy  homes,  the 
Hall  and  Moss  Side. 

4 'Auntie"  came  often  to  the  Hall  and  those  at  the 
Hall  loved  no  place  but  home  so  well  as  Moss  Side. 
Helen  seemed  to  have  taken  a  new  lease  on  life.  A 
faint  color  had  crept  into  her  fair  cheek  and  a  tinge 
of  corals  into  the  sweet  lips.  Her  laugh  was  as 
bright  and  merry  as  the  carol  of  a  bird.  Those  who 
had  predicted  an  early  death  for  her,  began  to  doubt 
their  prophecies  being  fullilled,  when  an  event  oc- 
curred that  changed  the  happiness  and  brightness  of 
the  Hall  into  sorrow  and  darkness  and  caused  a  thrill 
of  horror  through  the  entire  community. 

Near  the  close  of  a  lovely  evening  in  July,  Robert 
Nelson  returned  from  the  city,  to  which  he  had  gone 
the  preceding  day.  As  he  entered  one  of  the  carriage 
gates,  he  saw  Lillian  in  a  summer-house  and  springing 
from  his  buggy,  hastened  to  meet  her.  She  had  been 
watching  for  him  and  greeted  him  with  a  happy  smile. 
With  her  arm  and  one  hand  firmly  clasped  in  his, 
they  walked  in  loving  converse  up  and  down  the 
rose-covered  summer-house,  which  had  always  been 
called  "The  Lover's  Bower."    The  twilight  deepened 


104 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


and  still  they  walked  on,  talking  of  the  business  that 
had  called  him  away  and  which  they  did  not  wish 
Helen  to  know  of,  as  it  concerned  the  mortgage  on  the 
Hall  which  the  man  who  held  the  papers  had  threat- 
ened to  foreclose,  but  from  which  Auntie  had  saved 
them  for  the  present. 

' '  I  am  not  afraid  now,  love,  of  losing  my  ancestral 
home.  With  Auntie  and  Uncle  Henri  to  back  us  we 
can  defy  Packard's  millions.' ' 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  pistol  shot,  accom- 
panied by  a  startling  wrhizz  through  the  air.  Robert 
Nelson  with  a  heavy  groan  fell  at  Lillian's  feet  and 
the  blood  from  his  wound  poured  over  her  light  gar- 
ments. At  sight  of  this  and  his  upturned  face,  she 
uttered  a  piercing  shriek  and  fell  in  a  swoon  at  his  side. 

Helen,  who  in  the  veranda  had  been  awaiting  Robert 
and  Lillian,  at  sound  of  the  pistol  shot  in  that  direc- 
tion rushed  to  the  summer-house.  By  the  faint  light 
she  saw  the  two  bodies  lying  side  by  side,  apparently 
dead,  put  her  hand  to  her  heart  and  fell  over  them. 

The  shot  had  been  heard  at  the  house  and  immedi- 
ately there  ensued  a  scene  of  terror  and  confusion  at 
the  Hall.    The  servants  soon  found  the  three  bodies. 

The  big  towTer  bell  of  alarm  wras  sounded  and  soon 
the  v/hole  neighborhood  was  gathered  at  the  Hall. 

Dr.  Graham  was  one  of  the  first  to  arrive.  He  saw 
at  once  Helen  was  dead.  The  sudden  shock  had  killed 
her.  Robert  was  seriously,  but  he  hoped  not  fatally, 
wounded,  while  Lillian  was  unconscious,  and  for  a 
long  time  all  efforts  to  restore  her  proved  unavailing. 
Then  she  fell  into  a  stupor,  alternating  with  delirium, 
and  for  weeks,  yea  months,  her  life  hung  in  the  bal- 
ance. Brain  fever  set  in,  the  beautiful,  luxuriant  hair 
had  to  be  cut  off  and  soon  fell  out,  a  soft,  silky  white 
hair  like  that  of  an  infant  taking  its  place,  giving  Lil- 


JOY  AND  SORROW  AT  *HE  HALL  105 


lian  a  strange,  weird  beaty,  very  unlike  her  former 
brilliant  loveliness. 

Robert  slowly  recovered  from  his  wound  and  after 
many  weeks  of  weary  waiting  was  able  to  watch  by 
Lillian's  bedside,  who  sometimes  in  her  delirium  con- 
versed with  him  in  low,  solemn  tones  as  a  visitant 
from  the  other  world. 

As  the  months  crept  slowly  by  to  the  inmates  of  the 
Hall,  health  and  strength  came  slowly  back  to  Lillian's 
shattered  constitution.  She  had  missed  Helen  and 
they  had  evaded  her  inquiries  until  they  could  evade 
them  no  longer — then  Dr.  Graham  as  gently  as  pos- 
sible broke  the  news  to  her.  Her  grief  and  self-re- 
proach were  pitiable. 

"Oh,  Robert, "  she  would  say,  in  tones  of  anguish, 
"I  have  been  the  cause  of  all  your  grief  and  sorrow. 
I  who  so  loved  you  and  wanted  to  make  you  happy. 
Why  should  I  be  a  curse  to  those  who  love  me  ?  It  is 
Walter  Brunette  who  tried  to  kill  you.  He  made  his 
threats  against  you  and  I  would  not  tell  you,  because 
I  thought  he  would  not  dare  to  carry  them  out.  He  is 
insane,  Robert,  and  should  be  an  inmate  of  an 
asylum. 7 ' 

The  whole  community  had  turned  out  en  masse  to 
hunt  for  Robert  Nelson's  would-be  assassin.  Every- 
body believed  it  was  Walter  Brunette  for  Robert  Nel- 
son had  no  other  known  enemy,  but  though  the  coun- 
try was  carefully  scoured,  and  Cuckoo's  Nest  searched 
from  attic  to  cellar,  every  tenant 's  house  searched  and 
large  rewards  offered  for  the  apprehension  of  the  man 
who  fired  the  fatal  shot,  no  clue  could  be  obtained  of 
his  whereabouts  and  the  whole  affair  remained  a  mys- 
tery. 

It  had  been  nearly  a  year  since  Robert  and  Lillian 
were  married.    Christmas  was  near  at  hand. 

Lillian's  saduess  seemed  to  increase  as  the  usually 


106  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


happy  season  came  on.  Only  last  year  she  had  been 
so  happy,  and  now  dear  Helen  was  gone.  She  seemed 
never  to  have  thought  about  her  appearance ;  did  not 
know  that  a  silver  crown,  the  proof  of  her  wifely  de- 
votion, adorned  her  head,  instead  of  the  remains  of 
the  dark  hair  which  they  had  told  her  they  cut  off  to 
keep  her  head  cool  when  it  was  so  hot  with  fever. 

One  day  she  noticed  for  the  first  time  all  the  mir- 
rors had  been  removed  from  the  room.  She  wondered 
at  this  and  asked  herself  if  sickness  and  trouble  had 
made  such  ravages  on  her  countenance  they  feared 
the  effect  upon  her.  Then  there  seized  upon  her  a 
desire  to  see  herself,  to  know  the  cause  of  such  cau- 
tion. With  the  usual  pertinacity  of  an  invalid  the 
desire  grew  upon  her  till  she  formed  a  plan  to  effect  it. 
She  had  seemed  stronger  for  several  days,  had  sat  up 
and  even  walked  about  her  room.  At  her  request  they 
all  left  her  to  go  to  dinner.  As  soon  as  they  were 
gone,  she  slowly  made  her  way  to  the  next  room  and 
went  to  the  mirror  that  reached  from  wall  to  noor. 
She  could  not  believe  herself  the  person  whose  reflec- 
tion stared  at  her  with  wild,  astonished  eyes.  Could 
it  be,  indeed,  herself,  so  pale,  so  thin,  with  white  hair 
curling  in  a  million  soft  ringlets  upon  her  head?  She 
grew  dizzy.  Everything  began  to  recede  from  view, 
and  she  fell. 

They  found  her  in  the  room,  unable  to  get  back,  sit- 
ting on  the  floor  in  a  limp,  dazed  condition.  When 
she  recovered  from,  this  shock,  which  greatly  fright- 
ened the  loved  ones,  and  somewhat  retarded  her  re- 
covery, she  asked  pathetically,  looking  up  into  Rob- 
ert 9b  face,  bending  tenderly  over  her : 

4  4  Dearest,  can  you  ever  love  me  with  the  silver  sheen 
on  my  head,  the  strange  outcome  of  my  fright  when  I 
thought  you  dead?    'Tis  no  wonder,  love,  my  hair 


JOY  AND  SORROW  AT  THE  HALL  107 


turned  white  for  my  life  at  that  sad  moment  turned  to 
utter  despair.'' 

"I  love  you,  my  precious  darling,  better  than  I  ever 
did,  if  possible,  for  your  devotion  which  you  testified 
by  the  penalty  of  pain  and  suffering  you  have  borne 
so  patiently.  My  darling,  my  precious  darling,  you 
are  all  the  world  to  me  and  you  are  as  lovely  to  me  as 
you  were  the  night  of  the  play  at  Moss  Side,  when  your 
radiant  beauty  broke  down  every  barrier  that  had  pre- 
viously existed  between  us  and  made  me  as  I  have  ever 
been,  your  most  devoted  lover." 

Auntie  came  to  live  at  the  Hall  and  Lillian  slowly 
came  back  to  her  former  health  and  beauty,  and 
gradually  the  dark  shadows  lifted  from  the  Hall. 

Lillian  never  thought  of  Walter  Brunette  but  with  a 
shudder  that  caused  a  cold  chill  to  gather  at  her  heart. 
She  was  only  happy  when  Robert  was  in  her  sight. 
Auntie  tried  in  vain  to  dislodge  these  anticipations 
of  coming  evil. 

i 1 Oh,  Auntie,"  she  would  say  with  terror  in  her 
beautiful  eyes,  "he  is  a  lunatic  at  large  and  we  are 
never  safe  from  his  cruelty.  The  one  idea  that  pos- 
sesses him  seems  one  of  revenge  for  his  plans  being 
thwarted.  O,  how  I  wish  they  could  catch  him  and 
confine  him  in  an  asylum  before  he  brings  any  more 
sorrow  into  our  home." 

Mrs.  Stafford  would  say : 

"I  don't  think  he  is  insane,  my  dear,  but  revengeful. 
His  plans  are  too  well  laid  to  allow  us  to  put  so  charit- 
able a  construction  upon  his  deeds. ' ' 

"But  there  is  method  in  madness,  dear  Auntie,  you 
know ;  we  read  of  instances  in  which  the  insane  have 
outwitted  those  who  opposed  them.  That  cruel  letter 
assured  me  of  the  man's  insanity,  for  surely  no  sane 
man  would  have  penned  such  wild  words,  such  bitter 
threats." 


108 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

JIM  SHACK  OP  SHACKLETON. 

As  soon  as  Monsieur  Devereux  learned  of  the  tragic 
occurrence  at  the  Hall,  he  went  to  New  York  and  em- 
ployed a  noted  detective  to  find  out  who  had  fired  the 
fatal  shot  and  to  bring  him  to  justice.  He  offered 
a  goodly  sum  to  the  detective  to  undertake  the  case  and 
agreed  to  treble  it  if  he  was  successful. 

A  few  days  after  this  visit,  the  loungers  around  the 
depot  of  Melton  saw  a  young  man  alight  from  the  cars. 
As  he  was  the  only  passenger  to  get  off  that  even- 
ing he  became  the  observed  of  all  observers.  He  was 
of  middle  height,  rather  stoutly  built,  was  dressed  in 
a  crash  suit,  that  may  have  fitted  him  before  it  was 
washed,  but  was  rather  tight  now,  and  short  enough 
to  display  his  home-knit  hose  at  every  step.  His  straw 
hat  of  the  fashion  of  three  summers  before  and  yel- 
low as  saffron  crowned  his  head.  His  shoes  were 
coarse  and  too  large  for  him.  His  colored  shirt  was 
clean,  but  the  front  was  almost  obscured  by  a  large 
flaming  red  neck-tie.  He  had  in  one  hand  a  well-used 
valise  and  in  the  other  a  hickory  cane,  which  he  tossed 
with  quite  an  air.  He  walked  with  an  awkward  swag- 
ger in  the  direction  of  the  group  of  loungers,  who 
were  eyeing  him  with  some  curiosity. 

"Good  evenin',  gemmen,"  he  said,  as  he  approached. 
"Warm  day,  ain't  it?"  and  he  proceeded  to  mop  his 
face  with  a  large  red  bandanna  handkerchief. 

' '  Do  any  of  you  gemmen  know  whar  I  can  git  some 
work  to  do  ?  I  am  from  up  the  country.  I  got  a  lit- 
tle pale  and  peekish  and  work  got  scarce,  so  mam  said 
I  had  better  try  another  place.    Somebody  told  me 


JIM  SHACK  OF  SHACKLETON  109 


as  how  there  was  some  big  farms  roun'  here  and 
more  'n  probble  I  could  git  work  on  some  of  'em. ' ' 

"What  kind  of  work  can  you  do?"  asked  the 
agent,  who  at  that  moment  appeared  on  the  scene  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  singular  looking  stran- 
ger. 

6 '  Oh,  any  kind,  sir.  I  am  a  rum  hand  at  any  kind 
of  work,  but  bein'  as  I  was  raised  on  a  farm  and  bin 
doin'  farm  work  all  my  life,  I'd  ruther  do  that.  No 
man  can't  beat  me  plowin'  and  as  fur  hoe  work  I'm  a 
boss  chopper  and  don't  you  furgit  it." 

"This  is  a  scarce  time  of  year  to  get  work  now.  If 
you  can  get  it  anywhere  it  would  be  at  the  Hall,  Moss 
Side  or  Cuckoo's  Nest.  They  employ  more  hands 
than  any  other  farms  around  here. ' ' 

With  his  head  to  one  side  and  his  lips  half  open  the 
stranger  had  listened.  When  the  man  had  finished 
his  remarks,  the  stranger  took  from  his  pocket  a  small 
blank  book  and  a  stub  of  a  lead  pencil,  and  said : 

Mister,  I'd  like  to  git  the  names  of  them  places, 
*  Eagle's  Nest,'  "  he  repeated,  and  was  about  to  write 
it  when  a  laugh  from  the  crowed  arrested  him. 

' *  No,  you  're  wrong.    It 's  Cuckoo 's  Nest. ' ' 

"Well,  I  know'd  it  was  some  land  of  nest.  If  I  was 
gwine  to  name  a  place  for  a  bird,  I'm  mighty  born 
shore  it  should  be  a  big  bird.    What  kind  of  Hall  ? ' ' 

"Randolph  Hall." 

"Ramsey  Hall,"  he  repeated,  and  was  beginning 
to  write,  when  he  was  stopped  by  another  outburst  of 
laughter  from  the  crowd. 

After  getting  that  straight,  on  being  told  Moss  Side, 
he  proceeded  to  write  "Moss  Rose"  in  a  stiff  awkward 
hand  as  he  had  written  the  other  names. 

When  again  told  of  his  mistake,  he  said  impatiently : 

"Shore  thing,  folks  in  that  settlement  had  curious 
names  for  their  houses." 


110  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


On  inquiring  how  he  could  reach  the  places  men- 
tioned, he  was  told  he  could  hire  a  conveyance  and  go 
to  the  little  hamlet,  Anston,  three  miles  off,  but  if  he 
didn't  mind  walking  there  was  a  path  through  the 
woods  that  cut  off  nearly  a  mile. 

1 4 Mind  walking!  No,  sir,  I  was  raised  on  it,  bin 
walkin' ever  since  I  could  toddle.  Much  obleeged, 
gemmen.  I  will  do  as  much  for  you  some  day.  If 
you  hear  of  anybody  roun'  here  wantin'  a  first-rate 
hand  will  you  mention  my  name,  Mr.  Jim  Shack  of 
Shaekleton?  Good  evenin'.  It's  gitten  late  and  I 
must  be  gone,"  and  with  his  awkward  swagger  he 
walked  off,  twisting  his  cane,  of  which  amusement  he 
seemed  very  fond. 

Every  man  in  the  group  he  left  thought  himself 
called  upon  to  comment  on  the  manners  and  appear- 
ance of  the  stranger,  and  "green-horn,"  "conceited 
simpleton,"  "too  green  to  burn,"  "perfect  ignor- 
amus," passed  from  lip  to  lip,  accompanied  by  some 
not  very  complimentary  remark  at  which  there  was 
a  burst  of  hilarious  laughter.  The  stranger 
heard  the  laughter,  and  a  smile  of  satisfaction 
passed  over  the  face  that  had  seemed  so  dull  and  ex- 
pressionless—indeed he  seemed  greatly  amused  at 
something  and  when  assured  he  was  completely  out  of 
hearing  of  the  crowd,  his  amusement  found  vent  in  an 
outburst  of  laughter  equally  as  loud  and  hilarious. 

Strangely,  too,  when  free  from  observation  the 
swagger  was  changed  to  a  quick,  firm  business-like 
step.  Busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  the  man  was  sur- 
prised when  the  lights  of  Anston  began  to  glimmer 
in  the  distance.  The  walk  of  two  miles  seemed  scarcely 
a  mile.  Assuming  his  former  awkward  gait  he  ap- 
proached a  man  as  he  entered  the  little  village  and 
inquired  where  he  could  get  a  night's  lodging. 


JIM  SHACK  OF  SHACKLETON  111 


"At  John  Dugger 's  inn,"  was  the  reply,  and  he 
pointed  to  a  house  close  by. 

John  Dugger  was  sitting  on  his  front  porch.  He 
was  a  low,  fat  man,  and  the  heat  was  rather  oppres- 
sive. He  owned  this  two-story  house  and  as  he  had  no 
family  but  his  wife,  who  was  a  good  cook  and  a  hust- 
ling, energetic  woman,  he  thought  to  turn  an  honest 
penny  by  accommodating  the  public.  Then,  too,  John 
loved  money  and  w7asn't  anxious  to  work  for  it,  for  he 
loved  ease  as  well  as  money. 

It  had  been  unusually  dull  even  for  the  dull  season 
and  when  Mr.  Jim  Shack  put  in  his  appearance  for 
supper,  lodging  and  breakfast,  Mr.  Dugger  was  very 
polite  and  tried  to  make  him  feel  at  home.  He  gave 
him  one  of  his  pleasantest  rooms,  told  him  supper  was 
just  ready  and  seemed  greatly  to  enjoy  the  stranger's 
evident  relish  of  the  fare. 

After  supper  the  men  repaired  to  the  front  porch 
for  a  smoke.  The  stranger  took  from  his  pocket  a 
common  corn-cob  pipe  with  a  reed  stem  stuck  in  it 
and  proceeded  to  fill  it  from  a  little  tobacco  pouch 
that  had  been  its  companion  in  his  pocket.  Mr.  Dug- 
ger accepted  some  of  his  tobacco  and  after  lighting 
his  pipe,  and  giving  it  a  few  puffs,  declared  it  was 
the  best  he  had  ever  smoked.  Then  with  his  feet  on 
the  railing,  ensconced  in  an  easy  chair,  between  puffs 
at  his  pipe,  which  became  less  frequent  as  he  talked, 
he  replied  thus  to  a  question  put  by  Mr.  Shack  : 

4  4  Well,  yes.  I  reckon  you  can  get  work  around 
here.  I  almost  know  you  could  find  work  at  the  Hall  if 
they  were  not  so  stirred  up  there.  How  stirred  up, 
you  ask?" 

"Well,  some  rascal  shot  the  young  Squire  about  two 
weeks  ago  in  his  own  grounds,  while  he  was  walking 
and  talking  with  his  wife.  The  shot  was  intended 
to  kill  and  the  doctors  are  uneasy  about  it,  but  hope 


112 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


to  pull  him  through.  His  wife  thinking  he  was  dead, 
when  the  blood  spurted  out  of  the  wound  all  over  her 
white  dress,  fell  down  in  a  death-like  swoon  and  is 
now  extremely  low  from  the  fright  and  shock.  Then 
the  young  Squire's  sister,  a  sweet,  delicate  girl  of 
twenty,  ran  down  to  the  summer-house,  the  place  of 
the  tragedy,  when  she  heard  the  shot,  and  seeing  both 
her  brother  and  his  wife  lying  dead  as  she  supposed, 
fell  dead  over  their  bodies  from  heart  disease." 

4 'Who  fired  the  shot,  you  ask?" 

4 'Ah!  nobody  knows,  but  everybody  suspects.  It's 
a  long  story  and  might  not  interest  you,  a  stranger. ' ' 

6 '  I  can  smoke  and  listen  as  long  as  you  wish  to  talk. 
Its  too  warm  to  sleep,  anyway,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,"  John  Dugger  began  slowly,  "you  see  Mrs. 
Stafford  that  lives  at  Moss  Side,  one  of  the  places  you 
have  in  your  book,  had  an  adopted  daughter,  a  Miss 
Lillian  De  Vere.  She's  part  French,  I  think,  and  is 
the  loveliest  lady  I  ever  saw  or  dreamed  of.  The  fact 
is,  I  have  never  seen  a  picture  that  was  half  as  pretty 
as  she  is.  Before  I  saw  her  and  I  heard  men  rave 
over  her  beauty,  I  thought  it  was  overrated,  but,  man, 
if  I  were  to  sit  here  all  night  and  try  to  tell  you  how 
beautiful  she  is,  you  would  be  surprised  at  her  loveli- 
ness, when  you  saw  her,  and  think  I  hadn't  half  de- 
scribed her.  My  wife  has  a  lovely  rose  in  her  gar- 
den, a  choice  specimen.  I  could  never  give  you  an 
idea  of  its  beauty  unless  you  saw  it,  so  with  Miss  De 
Vere.  She  has  the  prettiest  eyes,  the  prettiest  mouth, 
the  p&ettiest  hair,  the  prettiest  features,  the  pret- 
tiest smile  and  the  prettrest  manners  in  the  world.. 

"  Well,  her  manners  i&  one  thing  that  makes  her  so 
lovely.  She  is  as  kind,  as  gracious,  as  polite  to  the 
lowest  and  poorest  as  to  the  highest  &nd  richest.  Well, 
she  was  grown  when  Mrs.  Stafford  brought  her  to 
Moss  Side  to  live— eighteen,  I  believe.    Walter  Bru- 


JIM  SHACK  OF  SHACKLETON  113 


nette,  the  only  son  and  heir  to  that  other  place  you 
have  in  your  book,  'Cuckoo's  Nest/  a  fine  old  place  on 
the  river,  saw  her  and  fell  desperately  in  love  at  first 
sight.  Yes,  desperately  is  the  word  that  tells  it  ex- 
actly. Tho'  he  was  engaged  to  his  cousin  and  ex- 
pected to  marry  her  soon,  he  began  courting  Miss  De 
Vere  in  earnest.  If  she  could  only  have  loved  him, 
all  would  have  gone  well.  It's  a  wonder  she  didn't. 
Pew  women  could  have  resisted  his  many  attractions. 
Just  as  Lillian  De  Vere  was  the  loveliest  girl  I  ever 
saw,  so  Walter  Brunette  was  the  handsomest  man  I 
ever  laid  my  eyes  on.  On  account  of  his  manly, 
blond  beauty,  his  magnificent  figure,  his  faultless  taste 
in  dress  and  his  proud,  overbearing  manners,  he  went 
by  the  name,  among  men  at  least,  of  the  'young 
prince/  It  would  have  been  a  remarkaably  fine-look- 
ing couple,  as  everybody  who  saw  them  together  re- 
marked. Sometimes  he  would  drive  her  out  in  his 
elegant  turn-out  and  finest  pair  of  bays  in  this  whole 
country  and  everybody  would  run  to  the  windows  and 
doors  and  watch  them  out  of  sight.  Well,  it  seems 
she  didn't  fancy  the  young  prince,  tho'  he  was  so 
handsome,  and  rich  besides.  She  fancied  the  young 
Squire  of  the  Hall  and  Walter  Brunette  was  set  back 
for  the  first  time,  I  suppose,  in  his  life.  He  had  al- 
ways had  his  own  way  about  everything  from  a  child 
up  and  he  made  up  his  mind  he  wouldn't  yield  the 
coveted  prize  without  a  struggle.  Does  my  story  tire 
you?"  John  asked  of  the  stranger,  who  sat  puffing 
away  at  his  pipe,  gazing  before  him  in  an  absent  sort 
of  way.  John  loved  to  talk  better  than  anything  in 
the  world  to  an  interested  listener,  and  he  wanted 
to  know  if  this  one  was  interested. 

The  young  man  seemed  to  come  to  himself*  as  it 
were,  and  replied  at  once: 

"No,  indeed,  sir.    I  am  not  tired.    It  sounds  like 


114  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


a  story  from  a  story-book,  and  I  love  nothing  in  the 
world  better." 

John  was  satisfied  and  changing  his  position  a  little, 
he  continued : 

4 'Well,  'tis  just  like  a  story  you  read,  only  this  is 
every  word  true.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Brunette 
determined  to  have  his  sweetheart  anyway,  whether 
she  wanted  him  or  not,  so  what  do  you  reckon  he  did? 
Why  one  evening  he  came  here  all  dressed  in  a  white 
duck  suit,  riding  his  fine  black  riding  horse,  Pluto. 
It  was  a  very  warm  evening.  A  storm  was  coming 
up,  one  of  the  worst  ever  known  around  here.  I  saw 
Brunette  at  the  postoffice  and  he  had  never  looked 
so  well.  He  always  looked  as  if  he  had  just  stepped 
out  of  a  band-box,  as  the  old  saying  is.  Now  it  hap- 
pened Mrs.  Stafford  wanted  a  letter  posted  and  Miss 
Lillian  came  to  post  it,  riding  on  a  favorite  horse  her 
aunt  had  given  her.  She  was  a  fearless  and  graceful 
rider  and  was  not  afraid  to  go  alone  a  short  distance. 
That  evening,  on  her  way  here,  the  girths  of  her  sad- 
dle broke,  and  she  came  here  and  got  me  to  fix  it,  and 
looked  so  sweet,  and  thanked  me  so  nicely,  I  felt  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  help  her.  Well,  that  evening 
Walter  Brunette  saw  her  here  and  rode  out  before  her, 
and  while  the  storm  was  raging  and  her  scared  horse 
was  dashing  homeward,  he  put  himself  in  the  road 
and  so  frightened  the  animal,  he  bounded  into  the 
woods.  She  managed  to  slide  off  and  made  her  way 
to  an  old  deserted  building  in  the  woods.  There  Wal- 
ter Brunette  found  her  and  tried  at  the  point  of  his 
pistol  to  make  her  consent  to  marry  him  that  night." 

At  these  last  words  Mr.  Shack  almost  jumped  from 
his  seat,  and  said  with  eager  questioning  eyes : 

"You  don't  say  so!  Did  he  really  do  that?  Did 
the  pretty  girl  say  so?" 

John  Dugger,  who  had  been  startled  by  the  young 


JIM  SHACK  OF  SHACKLBTON  llfi 


man's  manner,  so  greatly  in  contrast  with  his  former 
quiet  interest  in  his  story,  soon  recovered  himself,  and 
replied : 

"Certainly,  she  said  so,  and  just  when  the  time  he 
had  allowed  her  to  decide  was  up,  Robert  Nelson  and 
some  men  found  her  crouched  in  a  corner  and  Walter 
standing  near  her  with  his  watch  in  one  hand  and  pis- 
tol in  the  other.  As  Nelson  was  the  first  to  enter, 
Brunette  shot  him  and  escaped.  It  turned  out  not  to 
be  a  very  serious  affair.  The  young  Squire  was  car- 
ried to  Moss  Side  and  soon  got  well." 

"And  that  villain,  what  became  of  him?"  asked 
Mr.  Shack,  with  deepest  interest. 

"Ah,  no  one  knows.  Men  searched  everywhere  for 
him  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  A  letter  was 
written  to  him  warning  him  against  ever  being  seen 
in  this  neighborhood  again.  Lillian  was  married  about 
six  months  ago  to  Squire  Nelson  and  nothing  has  been 
seen  of  the  man  since,  but  everybody  believes  he  did 
that  terrible  shooting  and  everybody  is  anxious  to 
have  him  brought  to  justice,  but  you  can't  do  any- 
thing unless  you  find  him,  and  you  can't  find  him  if 
he  disappears  as  completely  as  if  the  earth  had 
opened  and  swallowed  him  up.  I  went  with  the  men 
to  Cuckoo's  Nest  the  night  after  the  shooting  was,  at 
dark.  We  ransacked  the  house  from  top  to  bottom, 
looked  into  every  closet  and  wardrobe  and  into  every 
nook  and  corner,  while  squads  of  men  went  in  every 
other  direction,  but  nothing  has  been  seen  or  heard 
from  him.  We  heard  detectives  would  be  employed 
to  work  up  the  case,  but  we  haven't  seen  any  yet 
Well,  now  I  have  told  you  the  state  of  affairs  at  the 
Hall,  you  can  use  your  own  judgment  about  going 
there  to  see  about  work.   Bob  Johnson,  the  overseer, 


116 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


who  has  charge  of  things  now  the  Squire  is  sick,  may 
give  you  work.    You  can  but  try." 

' '  I  shall  try, ' '  was  the  quiet  answer. 

The  next  morning,  after  an  early  breakfast,  Mr. 
Shack  departed  for  the  Hall,  telling  Mr.  Dugger  if  he 
failed  to  get  work  he  would  be  back  to  dinner,  or  if 
he  decided  to  go  to  Moss  Side,  would  be  back  to  sup- 
per. 

As  Mr.  Dugger  watched  him  set  out  with  his  swag- 
ger and  cane,  a  perplexed  look  came  mto  his  eyes,  and 
he  said  to  himself : 

1 4 That  fellow  looks  common  and  ignorant,  but  it's 
my  opinion  he's  sharper  than  he  seems  to  be." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Shack  took  the  woods,  rather  than 
the  road,  and  walked  so  briskly  he  soon  found  himself 
at  the  Hall. 

Bob  Johnson  saw  him  approach  and  met  him.  After 
the  usual  greeting  in  his  uncouth,  awkward  way,  Mr. 
Shack  asked  to  see  the  head  man  of  the  "establish- 
ment." 

"The  young  Squire  is  the  boss  of  course,  but  he 
is  wounded,  as  I  doubt  not  you  have  heard,  and  don't 
see  anybody  but  the  doctors  and  trained  nurse,  and 
his  wife  is  as  low  as  she  can  be,  so  if  you  have  any 
business,  I  can  attend  to  it." 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  firm  answer,  "I  want  to  see  Mrs. 
Stafford,  if  I  couldn't  see  noboody  else." 

Bob  Johnson  eyed  the  stranger  quizzically. 

"What  could  that  specimen  of  humanity  want  to 
see  Mrs.  Stafford  for?  Was  he  one  of  Brunette's  ac- 
complices, trying  to  get  an  entrance  to  the  Hall  to 
work  greater  mischief  I  If  so  he  would  be  foiled, ' '  so 
he  said,  rather  roughly. 

"You  can't  see  her.  She  rarely  leaves  Miss  Lil- 
lian's room,  tho'  they  have  a  nurse  for  her,  too." 


JIM  SHACK  OP  SHACKLETON  111 


Jim  Shack  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a 
letter  directed  in  a  bold  hand  to  Mrs.  Stafford. 

' ' Take  this  to  her  and  see  what  she  says." 

Bob  Johnson  took  the  letter,  examined  it  carefully, 
and  carried  it  himself  to  Mrs.  Stafford,  who  as  soon 
as  she  read  it  directed  the  man  to  be  shown  into  the 
library,  where  she  was  closeted  with  him  for  more 
than  an  hour.  With  a  grin  of  satisfaction,  he  passed 
Johnson  on  his  way  out  of  the  grounds  and  said: 

"You  see  that  letter  opened  the  door—letters  from 
big  folks  always  does." 

With  a  light  laugh  Bob  replied: 

' '  Somebody  else  besides  you  has  to  write  them  if 
they  do."  Mr.  Shack  smiled  somewhat  curiously, 
bowed  stiffly  and  walked  on.  He  reached  the  inn  in 
good  time  for  dinner,  said  he  could  secure  no  place  at 
the  Hall  nor  at  Moss  Side,  as  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford and  would  that  evening  try  Cuckoo's  Nest,  hop- 
ing to  be  more  successful. 

"I  jest  feel  this  river  air  will  do  me  good.  Mam 
said  I  mustn't  come  back  till  I  got  some  color  in  my 
face,  and  I  ain't  gwine  back  till  thin  if  I  can  help  it." 


118  LILLIAN  DbVERE 


I  CHAPTER  XVIII. 

JIM  SHACK  AT  CUCKOO 'S  NEST. 

That  evening  John  Dugger  rowed  Mr.  Shack  across 
the  river,  which  made  a  bend  around  Anston.  After  a 
walk  of  half  a  mile  he  struck  into  the  road  that  led 
to  Melton,  Cuckoo's  Nest  was  two  miles  from  both 
Anston  and  Melton.  Mr.  Shack  took  the  woods  when 
he  saw  anybody  approaching  and  resumed  the  road 
when  free  from  observation.  About  three  o'clock  he 
reached  his  destination.  Cuckoo's  Nest,  in  its  fine 
elevated  position,  was  indeed  a  stately  mansion,  and 
looked  very  attractive,  crowned  with  rich  summer 
sunlight. 

"A  nice  old  place,"  Mr.  Shack  remarked  mentally, 
"and  I  must  stay  here  awhile  on  some  terms  or  other." 
As  he  went  up  the  wide  walk,  the  gravel  crunching 
under  his  coarse  shoes  and  his  cane  assisting  his  steps 
as  if  he  were  old  and  feeble,  he  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
for  a  dog  that  might  try  to  intercept  him,  but  as  he 
neared  the  house  and  none  appeared  he  gained  confi- 
dence and  was  about  to  enter  the  flower-garden,  the 
principal  walk  of  which  led  up  to  one  of  the  many 
porches  by  which  the  house  was  surrounded,  when  he 
caught  sight  of  a  man  in  the  next  yard.  With  a 
halloo  that  startled  his  hearer,  he  advanced,  and  the 
man,  whom  he  knew  by  Mr.  Dugger 's  description  to 
be  Joe  Dawson,  came  to  meet  him.  He  saluted  Joe 
with  a  stiff  bow  and  an  extended  hand  and  said  his 
name  was  Mr.  Jim  Shack  of  Shackleton;  that  he  was 
a  farm  hand  in  search  of  work,  and  would  be  "much 
obliged"  if  he  would  give  him  something  to  do.  Joe 
Dawson  eyed  him  keenly  with  a  pair  of  steel-gray  eyes 


JIM  SHACK  AT  CUCKOO'S  NEST  119 


that  looked  as  if  they  were  searching  him  through, 
but  Mr.  Shack  bore  his  scrutiny  with  a  dull,  stolid  in- 
difference that  would  have  deceived  a  man  who  knew 
more  of  men  and  the  world  than  did  the  capable  and 
efficient  manager  of  Cuckoo's  Nest.  When  asked  what 
kind  of  work  he  could  do,  he  replied  as  to  the  agent 
at  Melton. 

"I  am  willing  to  work,  I  am,"  he  said,  with  much 
gesticulation  to  enforce  his  words.  "I  don't  want  to 
eat  no  man's  bread  and  meat  and  not  yearn  it,  I  don't, 
and  if  you'll  jest  gimme  a  job  I'll  show  you."  Now 
it  happened  that  Joe  Dawson  did  need  an  extra  hand 
for  two  or  three  weeks,  so  he  and  Mr.  Shack  soon  came 
to  terms  and  Jim  set  in  at  once.  As  the  young  man 
made  good  his  word  that  he  could  work,  the  manager's 
suspicions,  if  he  had  any,  were  lulled  and  Mr.  Shack 
had  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  employer,  but  if  he 
sometimes  asked  Mr.  Dawson  even  very  indifferent 
questions,  that  man's  replies  were  so  short  and  un- 
satisfactory he  was  not  encouraged  to  proceed.  He 
had  been  at  Cuckoo's  Nest  three  weeks  and  had  found 
out  absolutely  nothing  more  of  the  inmates  than  he 
knew  after  the  first  day.  Joe's  mother  was  the  house- 
keeper and  with  a  younger  son  lived  in  a  house  very 
near  the  main  residence.  Joe  lived  several  hundred 
yards  off,  and  as  Mr.  Shack  had  no  business  at  the 
"gret  house,"  as  he  called  it,  he  had  been  no  nearer 
it  than  the  first  morning  when  he  halted  outside  the 
gate  of  the  flower-garden  at  sight  of  Joe.  One  morn- 
ing, however,  the  elder  Mrs.  Dawson's  churn  failed 
to  work  as  usual,  and  as  her  other  son  couldn't  fix  it, 
she  sent  for  Joe.  As  Joe  was  very  busy,  he  sent  Mr. 
Shack,  who  very  willingly  undertook  the  job  and  made 
a  success  of  it,  but  it  took  much  longer  to  finish  it 
than  it  need  have  done.  Jim  was  talking  to  the  house- 
keeper.   He  had  expressed  great  wonder  at  the  size 


120 


LILLIAN  DeVEEE 


and  "fineness"  of  the  building  and  asked  where  the 
master  and  mistress  were.  Mrs.  Dawson  told  him  the 
mistress  was  off  on  a  visit  and  the  young  master  was 
traveling  in  Egypt. 

"Egypt!"  the  young  man  repeated  in  astonish- 
ment.  "Whar  is  that?" 

"  'Cross  the  ocean,  Joe  says,  and  Joe  knows,  for  he 
is  well  educated  or  he  couldn't  'tend  to  all  the  busi- 
ness here  all  right  like  he  does.  Joe  says  it's  where 
Moses  was  put  in  the  basket  of  bulrushes." 

"Land  sakes!"  Mr.  Shack  exclaimed.  "Does  he 
come  home  often?" 

"Well,  not  regular.  Sometimes  it's  two  years  or 
two  months  or  two  weeks  between  his  visits." 

"Don't  his  ma  fret  over  his  being  gone  so  much?" 
Jim  asked,  seemingly  very  intent  on  adjusting  a  piece 
of  the  churn-dasher. 

"Yes,  she  does  sometimes,  but  you  see  he  comes 
back  from  Egypt  to  see  her.  He  loves  his  ma  right 
well  and  she  loves  him  better  than  anybody  on  earth," 
was  the  reply. 

"Well,  if  they  love  one  another  so  good,  why  don't 
they  come  to  this  fine  place  and  live  together  ?  Seems 
that  would  be  the  sensible  thing  to  do." 

"Well,  'cause  Mr.  Walter  loves  to  travel  'round, 
and  Miss  Fannie  don't  love  to  stay  here  by  herself. 
She  stays  with  her  brother  and  his  daughter,  the  only 
folks  she's  got  'cept  her  son." 

"Whar  does  they  live?" 

"I  don't  know;  somewhere  up  the  country." 

"Don't  she  ever  write  to  you  about  the  business 
here?" 

"No;  I  can't  write,  but  Joe  can,  and  he  'tends  to 
all  the  business." 

"They  pays  him  well,  don't  they?" 


JIM  SHACK  AT  CUCKOO'S  NEST  121 

"Yes,  they  pays  everybody  well  that  works  for 
'em." 

"This  is  the  finest  place  'round  here,  ain't  it?  Shore 
thar  can't  be  no  finer  anywhar.  I'd  feel  like  I  was  in 
heaven  to  live  in  such  a  place  as  this. ' ' 

Mrs.  Dawson  smiled  proudly.  She  had  been  at  the 
place  so  long  and  loved  it  so  well  she  was  almost  as 
much  gratified  as  if  the  place  had  been  her  own. 

"To  my  notion  it's  the  prettiest  place  'round  here, 
but  some  people  think  the  Hall  is  the  finest.  I  reckon 
you've  seen  that  great  big  house  on  the  tother  side  of 
the  river,  way  up  on  a  hill?" 

Jim  didn't  look  up,  but  nodded,  as  he  had  his  mouth 
full  of  tacks. 

"But  sakes  alive,  I  wouldn't  live  thar  if  they  was 
to  give  it  to  me,  'cause  its  ha'nted." 

"What!"  Jim  looked  up  so  suddenly  as  to  over- 
turn all  his  tacks  and  a  look  of  terror  crept  over  his 
face.  "You  don't  tell  me!  I'm  mortal  'fraid  of 
ha'nts.   What  kind  of  ha'nt  lives  over  thar?" 

The  housekeeper  had  forgotten  her  churn  and  her 
usual  caution  in  the  very  unusual  chance  to  get  some 
one  to  talk  to.  Visitors  were  very  rare  and  the  few 
that  came  saw  only  Joe.  Surely  there  couldn't  be  any 
harm  in  talking  to  this  young  stranger  that  Joe  had 
sent  up  there,  so  she  spread  out  her  apron  smoothly 
with  both  hands  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  occasion,  gratified  to  be  able  to  tell  a 
story  that  she  knew  would  surprise  and  interest  her 
listener. 

"Well,  it's  the  old  squire's  ghost  that  ha'nts  the 
place.  He  built  the  Hall  a  mighty  long  time  ago  and 
didn't  'bleve  in  folks  having  but  one  child,  so  if  any 
of  his  folks  has  more'n  one  child,  he  jest  comes  and 
blows  his  breath  on  'em  and  they  dies  right  straight. 


122  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


He  blowed  his  breath  on  one  'bout  two  weeks  ago  and 
she  died  right  off." 

"You  don't  say  so!  Was  it  a  little  baby,  the  child 
of  the  man  that  lives  thar  now?" 

"No,  'twas  his  sister.  He  is  married,  though,  and 
everybody  said  she'd  have  trouble  when  she  married 
him,  and  she's  got  it,  too,  shore's  you're  born." 

"What  trouble?    'Cause  his  sister  died?" 

"No,  that  ain't  all.  Somebody  shot  her  husband 
and  he's  mighty  bad  off,  and  she's  'bout  to  die,  I  have 
heard,  but  we  folks  over  on  this  side  of  the  river  don't 
know  what's  goin'  on  over  t'other  side  hardly,  more'n 
'twas  across  the  ocean." 

Jim  looked  the  picture  of  amazement  and  said : 

"You  don't  tell  me  somebody  shot  the  man ?  What 
did  they  shoot  him  for  ?  What  had  he  done  ? ' ' 

"Nobody  knows  who  shot  him.  We  heard  they  was 
goin'  to  pay  lots  of  money  to  find  out.  But  Joe  says 
they  had  better  save  that  money  to  pay  off  the  Hall 
that's  in  debt,  for  they'll  never  find  the  man  that  fired 
that  shot." 

i  i  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  He 's  run  off  to  Egypt, 
ain't  he?" 

Mrs.  Dawson  looked  at  Jim  sharply  and  said : 

"What  makes  you  think  he's  gone  to  Egypt?" 

Jim  looked  up  into  her  flushed  face  with  his  usual 
dull  expression  and  said: 

"  'Cause  you  say  that's  a  long  ways  off,  and  to  be 
shore  he's  gone  fur  away  if  he's  gone  whar  nobody 
can  find  him.  Maybe  he's  hid  whar  Moses  was  when 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  found  him.  But  what  made  him 
shoot  him,  anyhow?   Had  he  done  him  any  harm?" 

"I  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  that  business.  Joe 
says  as  how  a  man  wants  to  live  at  the  Hall  and  if  the 
young  Squire  was  to  die  he'd  shore  buy  it,  so  it 
mought  have  been  him." 


JIM  SHACK  AT  CUCKOO'S  NEST  123 


"By  the  way,  I  'speet  that's  the  man  the  man  at  the 
depo  was  talkin'  'bout  t'other  day.  He  said  the  man 
that  shot  the  young  Squire  used  to  love  his  wife  and 
wa'nt  willin'  to  give  her  up,  tho'  she  was  married.  I 
think  that's  quare  myself.  I  ain't  goin'  to  love  no 
man's  wife  but  my  own.  Did  you  ever  hear  any  talk 
of  that?" 

The  housekeeper  tossed  her  head  up  and  said  fierce- 
ly:  "Some  fool  said  that.  Don't  you  listen  at  no 
such  foolishness.  That  young  woman  is  born  to 
trouble,  'cause  she  married  the  young  Squire  with  the 
old  Squire's  curse  on  the  place.  She  had  no  business 
marryin'  him  nohow." 

"But,  my  good  lady,  she  must  have  loved  him,  and 
you  ought  to  go  over  and  see  her  and  try  to  cheer  her 
up  in  her  sickness." 

The  housekeeper  pursed  up  her  mouth  and  said : 

"I  have  lived  here  ten  year  and  I  never  have  been 
to  the  Hall  yet,  and  I  never  expects  to  go,  either." 

"Well,  I  don't  call  that  neighborly.  Mam  visits 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood  that's  sick.  Seems  its 
your  duty  to  go  to  see  the  young  Mrs.  Squire  and  help 
wait  on  her." 

"No,  sir!"  the  housekeeper  answered  very  firmly. 
"Our  families  don't  visit." 

"Don't  visit?  Now  that's  bad.  I  s'pose  you're 
mad  with  each  other,  and  our  old  preacher  says  that 's 
wrong.  He'd  ride  twenty-five  miles  any  day  to  get 
people  right  that's  mad  with  each  other.  He  says  they 
may  manage  to  live  here  that  way,  but  'twont  do  for 
the  dying  day." 

Jim  uttered  these  words  very  solemnly  and  the  old 
housekeeper  seemed  impressed  and  said  slowly: 

"Well,  nobody's  'zactly  mad,  but  they  don't  visit. 
I  have  my  business  to  'tend  to  and  Mrs.  Coles,  the 


124  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


housekeeper  at  the  Hall,  don't  visit  me,  so  I  don't 
'spect  to  bother  her." 

By  this  time  the  churn  was  fixed  and  as  Jim  could 
find  no  pretext  for  delay  and  knew  he  had  learned 
about  all  he  could,  he  said : 

"Well,  I  think  your  churn  will  do  all  right  now, 
but  if  it  gits  outen  fix  agin,  let  me  know. 7 '  Then  very 
suddenly  he  asked:  "When  was  the  young  master 
home  last?" 

The  question  created  the  confusion  he  expected. 
The  housekeeper  hesitated  a  moment;  then  looking 
very  confused,  stammered  out,  "It's  a  long  time,  man. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  in  Egypt?" 

"Well,  I  know,"  Jim  replied  carelessly,  "but  in 
these  days  folks  can  travel  so  fast  it  don 't  take  no  time 
to  come  from  Egypt — not  more'n  a  day  or  two.  When 
he  comes,  tell  him  I  likes  his  place  mightily  and  would 
like  to  get  a  good  place  here  for  always."  Mrs.  Daw- 
son laughed. 

"Why,  man,  the  master  don't  have  nothin'  to  do 
with  that.  Joe  is  the  man  to  give  you  the  place." 

"Is  he?  Well,  I  have  to  see  him,  then,"  and  took 
his  leave,  saying  to  himself :  "I  have  been  here  three 
weeks  and  worked  like  a  dog  and  haven 't  learned  any- 
thing of  any  advantage  yet.  That  Joe  Dawson  is  a 
sharp  one,  sure.  You  can't  pump  a  thing  out  of  him. 
I  must  see  who  he  writes  to.  I've  tried  hard,  but  he 
has  kept  his  own  secret  thus  far. ' ' 

Chance  favored  him.  A  few  days  after  Joe  hurt 
his  right  hand.  It  was  the  busiest  time  of  the  year. 
The  crops  were  beginning  to  ripen  and  must  be  har- 
vested and  disposed  of  in  order  to  avoid  loss  and  rush. 
Joe  was  greatly  troubled  about  it.  He  would  try  to 
attend  to  his  business  as  usual,  but  the  pain  was  often 
too  great  for  him,  though  he  bore  it  like  a  martyr.  In 
this  emergency  he  put  Jim  at  the  head  of  affairs,  and 


JIM  SHACK  AT  CUCKOO'S  NEST  125 

as  day  by  day  went  by,  yielded  more  and  more  to  that 
young  man's  judgment.   One  day  tie  asked: 
"  Jim,  can  you  write  ?" 

' 'Oh,  yes,"  Jim  replied.  "My  schoolmaster  said  I 
beat  all  the  other  scholars  writin'  when  I  was  goin'  to 
school. ' ' 

"Will  you  write  a  letter  for  me?" 

"Certainly,  if  you'll  tell  me  jest  what  to  put  in  it. 
I  never  was  good  at  thinkin'  up  things  to  put  in  a 
letter." 

"I  will  tell  you  just  what  to  put  in  it.  It's  about 
that  hay  and  millet  we've  been  shipping.  I  want  our 
business  men  to  know  all  about  it,  so  we  can  keep  it 
straight. ' ' 

Jim  was  disappointed,  but  he  wrote  the  letter  as 
dictated,  directed  it  to  "Mason  and  Mann,"  and 
posted  it  himself  after  taking  full  directions.  On  his 
return  from  the  postoffi.ee,  he  told  Joe  he  had  gotten  a 
letter  recalling  him  home  at  once.  Joe  urged  him  in 
vain  to  stay  until  his  hand  got  well,  offering  to  double 
his  wages,  but  Jim  said  they  needed  him  bad  at  home 
or  they  wouldn't  have  called  him  from  such  a  good 
place.  So  he  left  the  next  morning.  If  Joe  Dawson, 
who  prided  himself  upon  his  sharpness  and  caution, 
had/had  any  suspicion  that  the  man  whom  he  had  em- 
ployed as  a  farm  laborer  and  who  had  boarded  at  his 
own  table  and  slept  in  his  own  house  was  one  of  New 
York's  most  famous  detectives,  who  in  that  disguise 
had  endeavored  to  learn  something  by  means  of  which 
he  could  convict  his  employer  of  the  cowardly  crime 
at  the  Hall,  he  would  certainly  not  have  parted  with 
him  so  unwillingly.  But  so  it  was,  as  our  reader  has 
doubtless  guessed.  Captain  Philip  Agnew,  as  he 
swung  his  old  valise  and  cane  on  his  way  to  Anston, 


126  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


gave  Joe  credit  for  all  the  sharpness  and  caution  he 
thought  himself  to  possess. 

"I  have  worked  hard  a  whole  month,  worn  this  old 
disguise  and  seemed  as  dull  as  an  idiot,  and  all  to  no 
purpose,  unless  I  can  manage  to  get  in  at  Mason  and 
Mann's.  I  may  be  able  to  learn  something  there.  That 
tellow,  if  he  did  fire  that  shot,  certainly  put  out  every 
track  behind  him.  I  will  make  a  confidant  of  Dugger. 
I  think  he  more  than  suspects  me  now,  and  111  get 
him  to  help  me  all  he  can  down  here — keep  a  sharp 
lookout  on  Cuckoo's  Nest." 

John  Dugger  was  accordingly  taken  in  Captain  Ag- 
new's  secret  service,  and  if  perseverance,  sharpness 
and  cheek  could  have  effected  anything  in  the  matter, 
he  would  have  been  of  great  aid,  but  there  seemed 
absolutely  nothing  for  any  one  to  learn  about  the  af- 
fair. There  were  no  tell-tale*  marks,  no  hitch  in  the 
plot,  nothing  to  help  the  attempted  murder  out,  but 
everything  to  keep  it  in. 


/ 

GEORGE  DAVISON— PETE  NEAL  127 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GEORGE  DAVISON — PETE  NEAL. 

Mr.  Mason,  senior  partner  of  the  well-known  law 
firm,  Mason  and  Mann,  sat  at  his  desk  in  his  private 
office  very  busy,  very  warm  and  very  much  flurried 
and  worried  at  the  array  of  business  that  confronted 
him.  Mr.  Mann  was  on  an  important  case  that  would 
take  a  week  longer  to  finish,  and  one  of  his  most  faith- 
ful and  reliable  clerks  was  at  home  threatened  with 
typhoid  fever.  Mr.  Mason  was  a  short,  stout  man, 
with  a  red  face,  and  was  not  very  patient  naturally. 
The  amount  of  business  he  had  on  his  hands  at  that 
time  did  not  tend  to  increase  that  virtue.  He  had 
stopped  to  cool  off  a  moment,  when  a  clerk  appeared 
with,  "A  young  man  to  see  you,  sir." 

"Who  is  it?"  inquired  the  senior. 

"Don't  know,  sir." 

"Send  him  in."  Mr.  Mason  adjusted  his  glasses 
and  was  prepared  to  greet  the  newcomer,  who  soon 
put  in  an  appearance.  He  was  a  dapper  young  man, 
with  fair  skin,  blue  eyes  and  light  hair,  dressed  very 
neatly,  and  seemed  quite  at  his  ease  as  he  approached 
Mr.  Mason,  and  after  the  usual  greetings,  asked  the 
lawyer  for  work  in  his  office. 

"Have  you  ever  done  any  office  work?"  was  the 
first  question. 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  answer;  "some,  but  not  very 
much.  I  wouldn't  expect  very  much  salary  until  I 
learned  to  please  you." 

Mr.  Mason  was  eyeing  him  steadily  and  thinking 
rapidly. 

"Let  me  see  what  kind  of  a  hand  you  write,"  and 


128 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


he  pushed  pen,  ink  and  paper  to  the  young  man,  who 
wrote  "George  Davison,  of  New  York,"  in  a  firm, 
legible  hand. 

"That's  your  name,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  will  employ  you  for  a  day  or  two,  and  if  you 
suit  me,  may  employ  you  permanently.  Can  you  go  to 
work  at  once?" 

"Yes,  sir;  this  evening  if  you  wish." 

Mr.  Mason  did  wish,  and  soon  George  Davison  was 
busy  at  work  in  the  senior's  office.  At  the  end  of  the 
week  Mr.  Mann  returned  and  the  clerk,  apparently  too 
busy  at  work  to  be  cognizant  of  anything  going  on 
around  him,  never  missed  a  word  that  was  uttered  in 
his  hearing.  One  day  he  gave  a  little  start  as  Mr.  Ma- 
son asked: 

' '  Has  Brunette  been  heard  from  yet  ? ' ' 

"No,"  was  the  answer,  "he  has  made  good  his  es- 
cape. I  heard  detectives  had  been  engaged  to  work 
on  the  case,  but  I  suppose  nothing  has  been  accom- 
plished." 

"By  the  way,  his  mother's  remittance  must  be  sent 
to  her  tomorrow.  It  is  due.  Don't  let  me  forget  it." 
The  next  morning  Mr.  Mann  said : 

"Be  sure  to  send  Mrs.  Lemoine's  remittance  today." 

'  1  Lemoine !  Lemoine ! ' '  the  clerk  repeated  mentally, 
and  when  a  short  time  after  the  senior  handed  him  a 
number  of  letters  to  post  and  he  saw  the  name  "Mrs. 
Fannie  Lemoine,  Brownley,"  he  smiled  and  said  to 
himself:  "She  is  going  under  an  asumed  name.  I 
must  visit  Brownley  at  once,"  and  when  the  next  day 
the  young  man,  who  did  not  have  the  threatened  fever, 
returned  and  Mr.  Davison  was  discharged,  he  seemed 
pleased  rather  than  disappointed,  and  was  soon  on  his 
way  to  Brownley.  At  the  last  station  before  reach- 
ing that  little  town,  he  went  into  a  hotel,  and  in  a  few 


GEORGE  DAVISON— PETE  NEAL  129 


minutes  came  out  dressed  as  Jim  Shack  had  been  the 
first  evening  of  our  acquaintance  with  him.  It  was 
nearly  sunset  when  he  reached  Brownley.  He  saw 
an  old  man  at  work  in  a  field  nearby,  and  immediately 
sought  him  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  of  any  place 
where  he  could  get  work. 

' 1 Isn't  there  a  Mr.  Brown  who  lives  near  here  and 
don't  you  reckon  I  can  get  work  there?" 

' 6  Yes, ' '  was  the  reply, 6 '  there  is  a  man  by  that  name 
who  lives  three  miles  from  here.  His  folks  were  some 
of  the  settlers  of  this  place  and  Mr.  Brown  owns  some 
of  the  best  paying  property  here.  I  don't  know 
whether  he  can  give  you  work  or  not." 

"Ain't  he  got  a  sister  who  stays  with  him?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Lemoine." 

"Does  her  son,  Mr.  Walter  Brunette,  ever  come  to 
see  her?" 

"He  used  to  come  to  see  Miss  Evelyn  Brown,  his 
cousin.  Everybody  said  he  was  going  to  marry  his 
cousin,  but  I  haven't  heard  anything  about  it  lately." 

"Did  you  ever  see  him?  What  kind  of  a  looking 
man  was  he?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  seen  him  often.  Well,  he  was 
about  the  cleverest-looking  man  I  ever  saw — was  fair 
as  a  lady  and  actually  had  pink  cheeks  and  light,  silky 
hair  and  mustache."  Pete  Neal  secured  board  and 
lodging  with  Mr.  Sam  Rudd  that  night  in  his  little 
shanty,  and  after  an  early  walk  presented  himself  at 
Ashleigh, ' '  the  Brown  residence,  for  work,  which,  as 
it  was  the  busy  season,  he  readily  obtained.  While 
he  appeared  careless  and  sluggish  when  not  at  work, 
nothing  escaped  him.  With  seeming  utter  indiffer- 
ence he  questioned  his  fellow  laborers,  but  found  out 
nothing;  indeed,  after  a  month's  work  he  knew  no 
more  of  the  case  than  what  John  Dugger  and  Mrs. 
Stafford  had  told  him  at  the  beginning  of  his  attempt 


130 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


to  bring  to  justice  the  man  who  had  caused  the  trouble 
at  the  Hall.  During  Captain  Agnew's  stay  at  "Ash- 
leigh"  as  Pete  Neal  Mr.  Brown  had  been  taken  very 
sick,  and  "Pete  Neal,"  who  represented  himself  as  a 
good  nurse,  was  installed  at  his  bedside.  He  had 
heard  the  old  gentleman  was  at  times  delirious  and 
had  hoped  to  learn  something  by  that  means.  One 
night  as  he  sat  alone  watching  the  sick  man,  who  was 
unusually  restless  and  feverish,  "Pete"  heard  him 
mutter,  "Walter."  He  bent  his  ear  close  to  catch 
every  word,  and  slowly  the  words  came  out:  "Wal- 
ter, Walter,  you  have  broken  your  mother's  heart, 
Evelyn's  heart — all  for  the  sake  of  a  pretty  face.  And 
we  were  all  so  fond  of  you,  so  proud  of  you,  and  hoped 
such  great  things  for  you. 9  9  With  a  sigh  he  turned  on 
his  couch,  and  "Pete,"  bending  over  him,  asked  in  a 
whisper : 

"Where  is  Walter?" 

"Walter  is  gone  far  away,  and  we  will  never  see  him 
again.  Poor  Walter,  mad  with  love.  It  is  like  our 
race  to  love  till  death." 

Captain  Philip  Agnew  returned  to  New  York,  a 
sadder  but  not  a  wiser  man.  For  the  first  time  since 
he  entered  on  his  career  as  a  detective  he  had  utterly 
failed.  If  he  had  known  the  fine-looking  Mr.  Rogers, 
with  jet  black  hair  and  full  black  beard  and  gold 
glasses,  who  visited  Miss  Evelyn  while  he  was  working 
at  Ashleigh,  was  no  other  than  the  man  he  was  seek- 
ing, he  would  have  been  even  more  disgusted  with 
himself  for  his  lack  of  penetration  and  known  he  had 
in  Walter  Brunette  a  ' 6  f oeman  worthy  of  his  steel, ' ?  a 
man  equal  to  himself  in  diplomacy.  He  had  hoped  to 
hear  something  from  John  Dugger — perhaps  some 
clew  that  would  give  him  encouragement  for  a  fresh 
start,  but  though  John  Dugger,  incited  by  the  prof- 
fered reward,  had  made  good  use  of  all  the  tact  and 


GEORGE  DAVISON— PETE  NEAL  131 


ingenuity  of  which  he  was  master,  though  he  had 
made  frequent  visits  to  Cuckoo's  Nest  for  the  vege- 
tables and  poultry  to  supply  his  larder,  because  he  told 
Joe  Dawson  he  found  them  so  much  more  satisfactory 
than  elsewhere,  though  he  had  praised  Joe's  farming, 
complimented  his  wife's  industry  and  his  children *• 
beauty  and  brightness,  and  had  told  the  housekeeper 
his  wife  wouldn't  have  any  butter  but  hers  after  he 
had  bought  the  first  pound  from  her,  though  he  had 
made  good  use  of  his  eyes  and  ears  on  all  occasions, 
and  though  he  had  fished  from  early  morn  to  late 
night  near  the  little  path  that  led  from  the  river  to 
Cuckoo's  Nest,  yet  he  had  been  able  to  learn  abso- 
lutely nothing  that  could  in  any  way  solve  the  mya- 
tery  that  attended  the  shooting  at  the  Hall.  As  time 
passed  on  and  both  Robert  and  Lillian  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  the  tragedy  the  excitement  subsided  and 
the  community  settled  down  to  its  usual  quiet. 


132  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Robert's  disappearance. 

More  than  a  year  went  by,  bringing  in  its  train  of 
months  both  joy  and  sorrow  at  the  Hall.  A  beautiful 
bright  boy  had  been  born  to  Robert  and  Lillian,  but 
ere  three  months  had  passed  it  winged  its  flight  to  the 
loving  Heavenly  Father,  who  said,  6  6  Suffer  little  chil- 
dren to  come  unto  me, ' '  and  while  the  hearts  and  home 
of  the  loved  ones  were  made  sadder,  heaven  became 
dearer  for  the  angel  hands  that  beckoned  them  up- 
ward. Lillian  had  recovered  from  the  sorrows  that 
had  fallen  so  fast  and  heavily  upon  her.  Of  a  natur- 
ally bright,  buoyant  temperament,  as  she  recovered 
her  health  she  became  hopeful  and  cheerful.  While 
she  cherished  Helen's  memory  and  while  the  little 
grave  in  which  her  fondest  hopes  had  been  buried  cast 
ever  a  shadow  over  her  mother-heart  which  she  knew 
would  never  lift  in  this  life,  yet  for  the  sake  of  her 
husband  and  auntie,  who  depended  so  much  on  her  for 
their  happiness,  she  strove  not  to  dwell  upon  the 
clouds  of  the  past  but  endeavored  to  look  forward  to 
a  happy  future  witn  those  she  loved  so  fondly.  Those 
who  had  known  her  formerly  saw  but  one  effect  that 
followed  her  previous  troubles — that  was  an  extreme 
nervousness  and  restlessness  when  Robert  was  out  of 
her  sight.  She  seemed  constantly  anticipating  some 
impending  evil  which  Robert's  presence  alone  could 
avert.  In  vain  Robert  and  Mrs.  Stafford  reasoned 
against  it.  She  would  laugh  at  her  fears  as  absurd 
and  call  herself  silly  and  childish  when  Robert  was 
safe  at  home  with  her,  but  with  his  absence  her  fore- 
bodings returned.    At  her  request  he  never  went  to 


ROBERT'S  DISAPPEARANCE  133 


the  city  without  taking  some  one  with  him.  As  he 
greatly  appreciated  the  love  which  induced  this  feel- 
ing for  him  on  Lillian 's  part,  he  never  left  her  unless 
it  was  unavoidable.  In  the  early  fall  Eobert  had  been 
summoned  to  Uncle  Henri's  bedside.  Aunt  Estelle 
had  died  the  previous  year  and  now  her  husband  was 
soon  to  follow  her.  Robert  reached  his  uncle  a  few 
days  before  his  death.  Monsieur  Devereux  bequeathed 
his  nephew  half  his  large  fortune,  which  had  enabled 
Robert  to  pay  what  he  owned  on  his  home,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  free  from  the  oppression 
of  debt.  Monsieur  Devereux  had  offered  to  give  Rob- 
ert all  his  fortune  if  he  would  assume  the  name  of 
Robert  Henri  Devereux.  The  monsieur  was  the  last 
of  his  race,  of  which  he  was  very  proud,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  perpetuate  it,  but  Robert  was  as  proud 
of  his  name  and  firmly  declined  to  sell  it  even  for  so 
large  a  price.  So  the  half  of  the  estate  went  to  Aunt 
Estelle 's  relatives  in  France.  One  day  in  the  late 
fall  he  found  it  necessary  to  go  to  the  city  to  attend 
to  some  business.  At  the  last  moment  the  wife  of 
the  tenant  who  was  to  go  with  him  to  Melton  and 
return  with  him  that  night  was  taken  sick,  and,  aa 
there  was  no  time  to  make  other  arrangements,  Robert 
went  off  alone.  Lillian  did  not  know  of  this,  but  as 
usual  she  was  restless  and  uneasy  all  day.  As  time 
for  his  return  approached  she  seemed  more  quiet.  A 
bright  smile  of  expectancy  shone  on  her  countenance 
as  she  lovingly  prepared  for  her  husband's  return. 
Slowly  to  the  beloved  wife  the  hours  crept  by.  Five 
o'clock  the  train  came.  She  listened  for  the  station 
blow,  but  it  had  begun  to  rain  and  the  wind  blew  so 
hard  she  could  not  hear  it.  She  allowed  one  hour  for 
the  drive.  Surely  he  would  be  at  home  by  that  time. 
How  she  lingered  over  the  tea-table,  placing  his  favor- 
ite flowtm  near  him  that  he  might  enjoy  their  beauty 


134 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


and  fragrance.  How  glad  she  was  she  had  thought 
of  having  his  favorite  dishes.  She  wondered  if  he 
was  prepared  for  the  rain  if  it  should  increase.  She 
and  Auntie  talked  together  of  how  he  would  say  he 
was  so  glad  to  be  at  home  again.  Six  o'clock  arrived, 
still  the  loved  one  came  not.  Her  suspense  became 
intolerable.  In  vain  Auntie  tried  to  quiet  her  by  sug- 
gesting that  the  train  might  be  late  or  that  Eobert  had 
missed  the  train.  As  the  minutes  passed  her  nervous- 
ness became  extreme.  She  called  William,  the  butler, 
and  bade  him  take  the  swiftest  horse  and  ride  to  Mel- 
ton for  news  of  her  husband.  Up  and  down  the  long 
hall  she  paced,  her  hands  clasped  in  mute  agony  and 
her  face  colorless  almost  as  marble  as  she  murmured, 
'Oh,  my  beloved,  will  you  never  come  again?  Come 
to  your  Lillian,  whose  life  will  be  over  if^any  cruel 
fate  has  taken  you  from  her."  William  came  back 
after  an  almost  incredibly  short  time  with  the  ago- 
nizing news  that  Eobert  could  not  be  found.  He  re- 
ported that  as  he  was  riding  rapidly  past  Lover's 
Leap  the  neighing  of  a  horse  in  the  woods  attracted 
his  attention.  He  alighted  and  soon  found  Mr.  Nel- 
son's horse  tied  to  a  tree  and  his  buggy  hidden  behind 
a  clump  of  bushes  not  far  from  the  roadside.  On  this 
discovery  he  went  as  fast  as  possible  to  Melton  and 
was  told  there  that  Mr.  Nelson  had  arrived  on  the 
train  about  dark  and  had  set  off  immediately  for 
home.  Men  from  Melton  returned  with  William  to 
Lover's  Leap  and  soon  found  by  the  light  of  lanterns 
two  pairs  of  foot-prints  in  the  moist  sand  in  the  road 
at  the  foot  of  the  bluff  and  evident  signs  of  a  struggle. 
The  foot-steps  were  traced  to  the  top  of  the  precipice, 
where  a  desperate  scuffle  seemed  to  have  ensued,  then 
all  signs  were  lost.  There  were  no  returning  foot- 
prints, though  the  men  sought  carefully  for  them.  It 
was  surmised  that  in  the  struggle  both  men  must 


ROBERT'S  DISAPPEARANCE  135 


have  fallen  over  the  steep  cliff  and  been  drowned.  In 
the  meantime  William  had  returned  to  the  Hall  with 
the  sad  intelligence  of  his  master's  disappearance  and 
the  towerbell  was  rung  violently  and  neighbors  has- 
tened to  the  Hall  and  set  out  in  every  direction  to 
search  for  the  young  Squire,  but  nothing  was  founc 
to  tell  of  his  fate  but  the  tell-tale  foot-prints  on  the 
bluff.  They  but  plainly  told  the  sad  story.  The  cur- 
rent of  the  river  was  very  swift  at  the  foot  of  the 
bluff,  and  if  he  was  thrown  over  violently  he  must 
have  been  drowned  before  he  could  recover  himself. 
Robert  was  an  expert  swimmer  and  some  thought  he 
might  have  been  murdered  and  his  murderer  had  lost 
his  footing  in  attempting  to  dispose  of  his  body  and 
himself  perished.  The  river  was  carefully  searched, 
but  more  than  a  week  elapsed  before  any  body  was 
found;  then  a  young  man's  body  was  found  many 
miles  down  the  river  decayed  beyond  recognition.  His 
friends  at  once  pronounced  it  to  be  Robert  Nelson  be- 
cause it  was  the  same  size  and  height.  His  clothes 
were  black  and  of  the  same  quality  as  those  the 
young  Squire  had  worn.  He  had  on  no  coat  and 
when  that  was  found  several  days  afterwards  con- 
taining his  papers,  a  handkerchief  with  his  name  on 
it,  and  his  watch,  the  chain  of  which  was  broken  in 
several  places,  no  doubt  could  longer  be  entertained  of 
his  death.  The  remains  were  brought  to  the  Hall  and 
interred  in  the  family  cemetery  by  the  side  of  Helen. 
Lillian  had  refused  to  believe  in  Robert's  death  until 
she  saw  his  coat,  then  the  conviction  came  to  her  that 
she  was  indeed  a  widow.  Her  grief  was  excessive  and 
for  a  time  her  reason  was  threatened,  but  gradually 
she  became  quieter  and  after  a  few  weoks  settled  down 
into  the  very  calmness  of  despair.  Like  a  beautiful 
Niobe  she  would  sit  for  hours  gazing  into  vacancy, 
lost  in  painful  reverie.    Auntie  would  try  to  draw 


136  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


her  from  a  retrospect  that  made  her  so  sad,  so  hope- 
less. One  day  several  months  after  her  husband's 
nad  fate,  Lillian  said  suddenly  and  with  an  effort  at 
composure : 

"Auntie,  Robert's  death  must  be  avenged.  Those 
who  have  tried  to  bring  his  murderer  to  justice  have 
effected  nothing.  I  think  I  am  the  one  to  under- 
take the  case.  I,  who  have  been  the  cause  of  all  this 
trouble,  am  the  one  who  should  undertake  to  avenge 
him.  That,  I  believe,  is  my  mission  in  life,  and  I 
shall  bend  every  energy  to  try  to  fulfill  it."  Auntie 
looked  into  the  lovely  eyes,  that  shone  with  an  unusual 
light.  She  knew  it  would  not  be  wise  to  try  to  reason 
Lillian  out  of  this  idea,  so  she  said  very  quietly : 

"Dear,  it  is  the  general  belief  that  the  man  who 
sent  Robert  to  his  fate  perished  as  his  victim  did. 
The  most  careful  examination  was  made  by  daylight 
and  no  marks  of  returning  foot-steps  could  be  seen, 
while  those  going  up  were  plainly  visible  in  the  sand 
which  had  been  wet  by  the  shower  that  came  on  just 
at  dark,  you  remember.  One  of  the  foot-prints  fitted 
Robert's  shoe." 

' '  The  other  was  that  of  his  murderer, ' '  Lillian  said 
fiercely.  "Auntie,  the  conviction  grows  upon  me  that 
Walter  Brunette  is  accountable  for  all  our  trouble 
and  that  he  still  lives.  In  some  way  he  manages  to 
defy  detection  and  eludes  all  attempts  made  to  cap- 
ture him.  If  I  had  only  kept  his  threatening  letter, 
that  would  have  gone  far  to  convict  him  if  he  is 
caught.  I  think  I  am  the  one  who  is  ordained  to  do 
that  work.  I  think  this,  for  one  reason  because  my 
feelings  towards  him  have  undergone  a  change.  I 
used  to  feel  a  mortal  dread  of  him.  I  would  almost 
have  died  of  terror  even  to  have  met  him  face  to  face 
—now  I  think  I  could  stand  up  boldly  and  accuse 
him  of  his  terrible  crimes  and  their  consequences. 


ROBERT'S  DISAPPEARANCE  137 


Like  Nemesis  I  could  pursue  him  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth  and  when  I  had  brought  vengeance 
upon  him,  as  I  feel  assured  I  should  do,  I  would  take 
delight  in  his  sufferings.  I  should  like  to  see  his  pride 
brought  low,  his  wishes  foiled  at  every  step  and  his 
will  made  to  bend  to  the  inexorable  justice  of  the  law. 
I  shall  never  be  satisfied,  Auntie,  till  this  is  accom- 
plished." In  her  excitement  she  had  risen  and  was 
walking  the  room,  her  long  black  garments  trailing  be- 
hind her  in  striking  contrast  to  her  face  of  almost 
marble  whiteness  and  her  wealth  of  snowy  hair.  Not 
unlike  an  avenging  angel  she  appeared  to  the  quiet, 
saintly  woman  to  whose  face  many  a  troublous  line 
and  to  whose  head  many  a  gray  hair  had  recently  been 
added.  These  were  the  outward  evidences  of  the  in- 
ward workings  of  a  heart  whose  daily  prayer  was  for 
submission  and  wisdom  to  counsel  the  young  life  that 
depended  so  much  upon  her  for  comfort  and  advice. 
For  a  few  moments  after  Lillian  finished  speaking 
there  was  silence  save  for  the  ticking  of  the  clock 
and  the  monotonous  6 ' swish,  swish,"  of  the  skirts  as 
she  paced  up  and  down  with  hands  tightly  clasped 
above  the  stately  head.  She  was  beautiful  even  now. 
Trouble  seemed  powerless  to  rob  her  of  her  fatal 
dower.  Her  singular  beauty  would  have  attracted 
attention  among  a  thousand  women  and  riveted  the 
gaze  of  every  eye.  Auntie's  heart  ached  for  the 
young  wife  whose  life  had  been  embittered  by  the 
loss  of  her  loved  one  so  ruthlessly  snatched  from  her, 
but  she  must  not  encourage  her  in  this  spirit  that  she 
knew  would  increase  her  wrath  the  more  against  th( 
man  whose  cruelty  had  wrecked  her  happiness.  Ris- 
ing, Mrs.  Stafford  went  to  Lillian,  put  her  arm  gently 
around  the  figure  quivering  from  excess  of  emotion, 
and  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside  her. 
1 ' My  darling,"  she  said  in  tenderest  accents,  "try 


138 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


to  calm  yourself.  Dismiss  your  gloomy,  bitter 
thoughts  of  revenge.  Granting  your  conviction  to  be 
true  that  the  relentless  foe  to  your  peace  and  happi- 
ness still  lives,  what  could  you,  with  your  guikless 
nature,  hope  to  do  with  one  who  is  an  adept  in  run- 
ning and  deceit— one  who  has  eluded  those  most  skilled 
in  dealing  with  duplicity  and  in  exposing  crime  I  He 
would  soon  have  you  in  his  cruel  grasp  and  increase 
your  unhappiness.  I  think  he  would  hesitate  at  noth- 
ing to  carry  out  his  plans.  Then,  too,  my  dear,  while 
all  of  us  who  know  the  circumstances  feel  assured 
Walter  Brunette  is  the  direct  cause  of  all  our  trouble, 
yet  if  he  was  found  and  brought  to  trial,  I  doubt 
whether  there  could  be  found  sufficient  evidence  to 
convict  him.  The  letter  in  which  he  threatened  the 
one  who  should  take  you  from  him  would  have  been 
strong  evidence,  but  you  destroyed  it,  and  all  now 
would  be  circumstantial  evidence,  upon  which  it  is 
hard  to  convict.  I  am  of  the  opinion  he  was  drowned, 
as  it  would  have  been  exceedingly  difficult  for  him  to 
escape  the  vigilance  of  those  who  searched  for  him 
so  carefully.  If  he  was  not  lost  in  his  attempt  to 
drown  Eobert,  what  could  have  become  of  him  ?  That 
question  puzzles  the  most  skillful  detectives.  His  home 
was  watched  day  and  night  for  weeks  by  men  deter- 
mined to  find  him  and  not  the  slightest  clue  has  been 
found.  No,  dearest,  give  up  every  thought  that  agi- 
tates you  so.  Obey  the  command  of  One  whose  'ways 
are  past  finding  out,'  who  says,  'Be  still  and  know 
that  I  am  God.'  Pray  Him  to  calm  the  waves  that 
sometimes  threaten  to  overwhelm  us,  and  like  the  bil- 
lows of  the  Galilean  sea,  at  His  will,  there  will  be  a 
calm.  Open  your  burdened  heart  to  the  sunlight  of 
His  infinite  compassion.  Consecrate  your  life  to  Him 
and  'scatter  seeds  of  kindness'  all  around  you  'for 
your  reaping  by  and  by,'  for  'He  that  goeth  forth 


ROBERT'S  DISAPPEARANCE  189 


and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless 
come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with 
him."  Just  listen,  dear,  starting  out  weeping,  com- 
ing back  rejoicing,  bearing  precious  seed,  bringing 
back  sheaves.  If  we  are  only  faithful  in  the  Master's 
work  we  shall  stand  in  the  Heavenly  gates  with  those 
'who  came  out  of  great  tribulation  and  washed  their 
robes  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'  The  heavier  the 
cross,  if  humbly  and  patiently  borne,  the  brighter  the 
crown."  With  such  sweet  words  and  promises  the 
Christian  friend  seemed  gradually  to  calm  and  soothe 
the  wounded  heart.  From  the  Hall  there  went  out  a 
stream  of  good  influences  and  helpfulness  that  per- 
meated the  whole  community.  The  sick  were  visited 
and  ministered  to  in  every  way.  The  needy  were 
helped,  the  troubled  found  sympathy  and  solace  in 
the  sweet  patience  of  the  afflicted  wife  and  her  de- 
voted friend.  Charity  was  dispensed  freely  and  wisely. 
Both  Mrs.  Stafford  and  Lillian  were  ready  for  every 
good  word  and  work,  and  as  time  went  by  there  came 
something  of  peace  to  the  dwellers  at  the  Hall,  who 
found  that  reflex  influence  which  ever  comes  from 
seeking  the  good  and  happiness  of  others.  The  cold 
winter  passed,  the  spring  came  and  went,  and  summer, 
with  its  long,  sunny  days,  again  blessed  the  land. 
Auntie,  who  knew  the  sunshine  and  fresh  air  were 
the  best  medicine  for  both  a  diseased  mind  and  body, 
planned  to  keep  Lillian  out  of  doors  a  great  deal,  and 
as  the  season  advanced  she  rejoiced  to  see  the  color 
come  back  to  cheek  and  lips.  Her  eyes  grew  brighter 
and  her  step  more  elastic.  She  was  much  among  the 
flowers  and  found  some  surcease  of  sorrow  in  caring 
for  them.  For  Auntie's  dear  sake  she  tried  to  take 
interest  in  everything  that  lady  suggested,  but  some- 
times when  her  heart  was  unusually  lonely  and  sad, 
she  found  it  hard  to  evince  an  interest  she  did  not 


140  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


feel.  How  often  in  after  years  she  recalled  that  sum- 
mer !  How  like  an  own  wise,  true  mother  Auntie  had 
been  to  her !  How  gentle  in  her  counsels !  How  pa- 
tient with  her  in  all  her  moods!  Surely  no  own 
mother  could  have  shown  greater  love  for  an  only  child 
than  Auntie  had  shown  for  her  ever  since  she  had 
known  her!  If  she  had  known  it  would  be  the  last 
summer  she  would  have  the  dear  one  with  her,  her 
heart,  instead  of  lightening  under  her  holy  influence 
and  under  time's  softening  effect,  would  have  been 
draped  in  deepest  sorrow.  What  a  blessing  she  didn't 
know !  But  so  it  was.  One  morning  in  the  early  fall, 
Auntie,  who  was  accustomed  to  rise  soon  in  the  morn- 
ing, did  not  get  up.  Lillian  hastened  to  her  room 
and  found  the  beautiful,  pure  spirit  that  had  left  the 
good-night  kiss  on  her  lips  had  ere  she  woke  been 
ushered  into  the  glorious  sunshine  of  an  eternal  dawn. 
Never  had  there  been  a  larger  or  more  tearful  con 
course  of  people  in  the  community  than  attended  Mrs. 
Stafford's  remains  to  their  last  resting  place  by  the 
side  of  her  beloved  husband  and  children.  In  the 
immense  crowd  there  was  not  one,  perhaps,  who  had 
not  directly  or  indirectly  felt  her  saintly  influence. 
We  draw  a  curtain  over  Lillian's  grief.  Words  could 
not  describe  it. 


MADAME  FLORINE  141 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MADAME  FLORINE. 

Ten  years  before  the  present  date  of  our  story 
' i Queen's  Beach"  was  quite  a  noted  watering-place. 
It  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  sea  and  had  a  fine 
surf.  Many  wealthy  people,  who  loved  the  sea,  had 
found  such  attractions  at  Queen's  Beach  they  had 
built  nice  cottages  and  spent  their  seasons  there.  A 
large,  commodious  hotel  entertained  the  transient 
guests.  A  branch  railroad  had  been  built  to  it  and 
for  some  years  it  enjoyed  great  prosperity.  A  town 
had  rapidly  sprung  up  and  at  one  time  it  bade  fair 
to  become  quite  an  enterprising  city.  But  gradually 
the  wealthy  pleasure  seekers  from  whom  the  place 
derived  its  principal  source  of  income  became  tired 
of  the  quiet  monotony  of  the  Beach,  and  one  by  one 
the  summer  cottages  were  sold  to  the  people  of  the 
town  for  residences.  The  hotel  was  purchased  by  Mr. 
Bowers,  the  principal  merchant  of  the  Beach.  He  oc- 
cupied it  as  a  home  for  his  family,  but  accommodated 
the  traveling  public,  which  of  late  years  had  not  been 
numerous.  Indeed  at  the  present  date  the  Beach  had 
settled  down  into  the  dullness  of  a  humdrum  country 
town.  In  the  height  of  its  popularity  a  French  gen- 
tleman had  come  to  the  Beach,  bought  the  most  de- 
sirable site  that  could  be  purchased  and  built  a  French 
villa,  furnishing  it  handsomely.  The  grounds,  while 
not  extensive,  were  tastefully  arranged.  Evergreens 
and  shade  trees  of  rapid  growth  were  set  out.  Flow- 
ers adorned  the  yards  and  made  the  place  a  bower 
of  beauty  and  bloom  in  summer  and  autumn.  Mon- 
sieur Vehon  returned  to  France  and  brought  back  his 


142 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


family,  consisting  of  his  wife  and  two  daughters. 
For  awhile  they  seemed  satisfied,  but  when  the  popu- 
larity of  the  place  began  to  decline  it  became  too 
dull  to  suit  the  Monsieur's  gay  wife  and  daughters, 
and  they  moved  away.  Monsieur  had  tried  in  vain  to 
sell  the  Villa,  but  no  purchaser  had  as  yet  been  found. 
For  two  seasons  it  had  been  rented  from  May  to 
October  by  families.  Last  summer  it  had  been  vacant. 
During  April  of  the  year  of  which  we  are  writing  a 
ripple  of  excitement  broke  over  the  usual  quietude  of 
the  Beach  when  it  was  rumored  that  a  French  lady, 
a  relative  of  the  French  Monsieur,  would  occupy  the 
"  Villa' '  for  the  season.  The  ripples  multiplied,  deep- 
ened and  widened  when  it  was  known  that  the  French 
lady  was  a  young  widow  of  singular  be^ity  and  that 
her  family  consisted  only  of  herself  anil  an  elderly 
companion,  a  Mrs.  Marxman,  as  her  chaperon.  As 
the  Villa  was  rented  already  furnished  there  was  no 
display  of  Madame 's  household  wealth.  All  the  serv- 
ants too  were  engaged  after  the  arrival  of  the  stran- 
gers. Soon  the  house  was  opened  for  the  reception  of 
visitors  and  all  who  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ma- 
dame Florine  were  charmed  and  delighted  with  her 
grace  and  beauty.  She  was  exceedingly  kind  and  hos- 
pitable and  soon  her  name  was  the  toast  of  all  who 
fell  under  her  sweet,  gentle  influence.  Her  receptions, 
so  choice  and  elegant,  showed  a  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  ways  of  the  best  society.  Soon  not  to  know 
and  to  enjoy  Madame  Florine  ?s  hospitality  was  to 
argue  yourself  unknown  among  the  elite  of  the  Beach. 
Indeed  the  most  exclusive  and  aristocratic  people  of 
the  town  paid  homage  to  the  magnetic  social  power  of 
this  stranger  of  whom  nothing  was  known  save  what 
her  manners  and  conversation  testified,  that  she  was 
a  most  refined  and  accomplished  lady.  Mrs.  Marx- 
man, when  questioned  by  the  inquisitive,  said  she  had 


MADAME  FLORINE  143 


known  Madame  Florine  only  a  short  time,  that  she 
had  answered  an  advertisement  in  a  New  York  paper 
and  had  been  engaged  by  Madame  because  her  testi- 
monials of  character,  etc.,  had  suited  her  better  than 
any  of  the  others  who  had  applied  for  the  position. 
She  supposed  Madame  had  just  come  from  France,  as 
she  talked  in  some  outlandish  language  to  a  foreign- 
looking  gentleman  who  visited  her  as  long  as  she 
stayed  in  New  York.  Madame  had  never  made  the 
slightest  allusion  to  her  past  life  and  she  was  a  per- 
son no  one  could  approach  too  near  or  break  down 
the  reserve  with  which  she  had  surrounded  herself 
without  absolute  rudeness.  One  morning  three 
months  after  Madame 's  appearance  at  the  Villa,  Pearl 
Bowers,  the  belle  of  the  Beach,  and  Nell  Campbell, 
her  most  intimate  friend,  were  discussing  a  delightful 
tea-party  which  they  had  attended  at  the  Villa  the 
night  before  and  were  extolling  Madame  ?s  marvelous 
tact  of  entertaining.    After  a  pause,  Pearl  said : 

"Nell,  while  Madame  Florine  without  any  apparent 
exertion  makes  everybody  enjoy  every  occasion,  is 
herself  the  very  spirit  of  it,  still  I  do  not  think  she 
takes  any  pleasure  in  them.  I  have  watched  her  se- 
cretly and  sometimes  have  caught  an  involuntary  sigh. 
Do  you  notice  that  in  absolute  repose  her  countenance 
has  a  very  sad  expression?  I  feel  assured  there  is  a 
mystery  connected  with  her  life,  a  dark  background 
against  which  her  kindness  and  enjoyment  of  others' 
pleasure  seem  the  more  conspicuous.  Then,  too,  her 
beautiful  white  hair  and  glasses  make  her  look  older 
than  she  really  is.  One  morning  after  I  had  spent 
the  night  at  the  Villa  I  saw  her  without  her  glasses. 
She  was  gazing  pensively  out  of  the  window  with  her 
glasses  in  her  hand  and  turned  suddenly  on  my  ap- 
proach. I  caught  her  hand  as  she  tried  to  put  on 
her  glasses  and  begged  her  to  let  me  see  her  without 


Hi  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


them.  After  a  slight  hesitation  she  looked  ine  in  the 
face  with  a  pair  of  the  loveliest,  most  expressive  eyes 
I  have  ever  seen.  You  could  never  imagine  how  beau- 
tiful they  are.  Those  glasses  entirely  change  the  ex- 
pression of  her  eyes  and  countenance  and  make  her 
appear  at  least  ten  years  older  than  she  is.  I  begged 
her  not  to  wear  them  any  more,  but  she  only  shook 
her  head  with  a  sad  little  sigh  and,  adjusting  the 
glasses,  at  once  changed  the  subject.  I  am  not  a  very 
susceptible  person,  as  you  know,  but  I  fell  greatly 
in  love  with  Madame  at  first  sight  and  my  affection 
for  her  increases  every  time  I  see  her.  How  much  I 
wish  I  knew  the  secret  of  her  life !  I  know  it  would 
re  id  just  like  a  story  in  a  book,  only  the  heroine  would 
be  a  veritable  woman  with  every  grace  you  read  about 
exemplified  in  her,  and  of  extraordinary  beauty,  too." 

"  Yes,"  Nell  replied,  "she  is  a  most  wonderfully  at- 
tractive lady,  by  whose  society  you  feel  elevated  and 
encouraged  to  lead  a  better,  more  self-sacrificing  life. 
I  have  been  so  enthusiastic  in  my  praises  of  her  beauty 
and  other  numerous  attractions  I  have  even  aroused 
Mr.  Reynolds'  desire  to  make  her  acquaintance  and 
have  secured  an  invitation  for  him  to  the  lawn-party 
next  Thursday  night.  You  know  he  is  a  real  recluse. 
He  has  boarded  with  us  several  years  and  we  all  like 
him  very  much.  He  is  very  intelligent  and  remark- 
ably entertaining  when  he  exerts  himself,  but  we 
never  see  him  except  at  the  table,  and  for  days,  even 
weeks  sometimes,  he  never  speaks  a  word  even  there, 
except  to  decline  or  accept  the  courtesies  of  the  table. 
He  goes  to  the  postoffice  every  evening  after  the  last 
train,  which  you  know  comes  about  dark,  and  takes  a 
row  on  the  sea  for  exercise  every  day.  With  that  ex- 
ception he  stays  in  his  room  and  writes  all  day  long. 
He  writes  for  the  'Beach  Nut/  you  know— wrote  that 
continued  story  over  which  people  almost  went  wild 


MADAME  FLORINE 


and  which  doubled  the  circulation  of  the  paper.  He 
writes  for  several  other  papers  too,  and  I  reckon  makes 
a  lot  of  money.  Wouldn't  it  be  romantic  if  he  should 
fall  in  love  with  Madame,  learn  the  story  of  her  life 
and  write  it  out  for  us  to  read?  I  think  nothing 
would  be  so  delightful." 

"Yes,"  Pearl  answered,  thoughtfully,  "but  I  think 
Madame  would  be  as  reticent  with  him  about  her  heart 
history  as  she  is  with  us.  I  think  her  heart  is  in 
her  husband's  grave  and  she  finds  her  only  pleasure 
now  in  ministering  to  the  happiness  of  others." 

The  next  Thursday  night,  when  Nell  appeared  with 
her  friend,  Mr.  Reynolds,  Madame  was  as  usual  the 
center  of  an  admiring  group  with  whom  she  was  dis- 
cussing with  more  than  usual  animation  some  mirthful 
question.  She  stood  under  a  tree  from  whose  branches# 
many  gay-colored  lanterns  hung.  She  was  dressed  in 
pure  white  and  the  color  from  the  lanterns  threw  a 
rosy  hue  over  her  usually  pure  white  face.  Every- 
body said  they  had  never  seen  Madame  look  so  lovely. 
When  Mr.  Reynolds  was  introduced  to  her  she  greeted 
him  with  an  easy  grace  that  became  her  well  and  which 
was,  everybody  said,  one  of  her  principal  charms.  Mr. 
Reynolds  was  a  tall,  fine-looking  gentleman  with  black 
hair,  beard  and  mustache.  He  wore  glasses,  through 
which  shone  a  pair  of  very  bright  eyes.  His  hands 
were  white  and  shapely  and  on  one  finger  shone  a 
gem  of  rare  beauty.  His  voice  was  low  but  well  modu- 
lated, and  if  he  was  a  recluse,  his  manners  showed 
he  had  at  some  time  in  his  life  been  conversant  with 
the  ways  of  society.  He  at  once  engaged  Madame 
in  conversation,  and,  like  all  others,  seemed  charmed 
by  his  new  acquaintance.  He  sought  her  society  as 
often  as  etiquette  allowed  and  won  from  her  per- 
mission to  continue  his  acquaintance  with  her,  a  per- 


146 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


mission  of  which  he  soon  availed  himself,  and,  first 
with  Nell  and  then  alone,  often  sought  the  society  of 
the  Queen  of  the  Villa,  as  her  friends  had  learned  to 
designate  Madame. 


LILLIAN  AS  A  DETECTIVE  147 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LILLIAN  AS  A  DETECTIVE. 

Five  months  have  passed  since  Lillian  first  occupied 
the  Villa,  for  Madame  Florine  was  none  other  than 
she,  as  our  readers  have  doubtless  surmised.  Two 
weeks  after  Auntie's  death  she  had  suddenly  gone 
away  from  the  Hall,  telling  no  one  where  she  was 
going.  Indeed,  she  did  not  know  herself.  She  told 
Mrs.  Coles  she  could  not  stay  where  such  painful  asso- 
ciations surrounded  her  and  that  she  would  be  gone 
for  an  indefinite  period.  She  left  the  Hall  in  the  care 
of  Mrs.  Coles  and  her  brother,  as  Robert  had  done  dur- 
ing his  absence  at  college,  and  the  grand  old  place 
settled  down  to  the  loneliness  of  those  days,  only  now 
the  shadows  of  sorrow  and  death  had  gathered  over 
it  with  no  hope  of  their  ever  uplifting.  Lillian  had 
determined  to  go  first  to  New  York.  Beyond  that  she 
had  no  definite  plan.  It  was  necessary  to  spend  one 
day  in  the  city  of  0.  to  see  her  lawyers.  On  arriving 
there,  as  it  was  a  warm,  bright  day  and  the  place  of 
her  destination  not  far  from  the  depot,  she  decided  to 
walk  to  it.  Turning  a  corner  of  a  street  she  noticed 
just  ahead  of  her  an  elderly  looking  lady,  dressed 
in  mourning  and  enveloped  in  a  very  thick  black  veil. 
She  never  knew  what  attracted  her  attention  to  this 
lady  unless  it  was  that  she  wore  the  habiliments  of 
bereavement,  as  she  herself  did,  and  there  is  always 
true  sympathy  in  true  sorrow.  The  stranger's  step 
was  slow  and  her  shoulders  were  bent  more  it  seemed 
from  trouble  than  old  age.  Lillian  slackened  her  own 
pace  and  kept  the  same  distance  behind  the  lady,  with- 
out even  thinking  why,    As  the  stranger  reached  the 


148 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


postoffice  she  put  her  veil  a  little  to  one  side  to  see 
how  to  ascend  the  steps  and  gave  a  quick  look  around 
as  if  to  see  whether  she  was  observed.  In  that  one 
stealthy  glance  Lillian,  through  her  own  thick  veil, 
recognized  the  mother  of  the  man  who  had  wrought 
such  ruin  in  her  home.  She  had  heard  Mr.  Brown, 
Mrs.  Brunette  's  brother,  was  dead  and  that  Mrs,  Bru- 
nette and  Evelyn  Brown  had  returned  to  Cuckoo's 
Nest.  Very  softly  she  stepped  into  the  office  behind 
Mrs.  Brunette  and  heard  her  say  in  a  low,  scarcely 
audible  voice,  1  i  No.  197."  She  extended  a  hand  en- 
cased in  a  fine  kid  glove  for  the  mail,  which  consisted 
of  several  letters  and  papers.  Clasping  it  firmly,  she 
put  it  under  her  veil  and  hastened  away,  without 
noticing  the  closely  veiled  lady  who  was  noting  her 
every  act  and  word  intently.  Before  she  left  the  city 
for  New  York  she  had  an  interivew  with  Mr.  Monroe, 
the  postmaster,  who  had  known  her  husband  and  all 
the  sad  occurrences  at  the  Hall.  From  him  she 
learned  that  "No.  197"  had  been  rented  for  a  year 
and  paid  for  in  advance  by  a  lady  giving  her  name  as 
Miss  Lucy  Stone ;  that  it  was  not  Miss  Evelyn  Brown, 
whom  he  knew  by  sight  and  for  whom  letters  and  pa- 
pers had  come  through  the  general  delivery  since  her 
recent  coming  to  Cuckoo 's  Nest ;  that  letters  and  papers 
had  come  to  "No.  197"  bearing  the  name  of  Miss  Lucy 
Stone  and  some  with  only  the  number  of  the  box  on 
them.  He  told  her  also  how  the  detectives  had  watched 
the  Brunette  lock  box  and  had  examined  every  suspi- 
cious-looking letter  that  had  come  to  the  office  with 
the  hope  of  getting  a  clue  to  Brunette's  hiding  place, 
but  nothing  whatever  had  been  learned.  Mr.  Monroe 
tried  to  dissuade  Lillian  from  attempting  anything  in 
regard  to  the  matter,  using  the  same  arguments  Mrs. 
Stafford  had  done,  but  Lillian  was  firm  in  her  deter- 
mination to  do  all  she  could.  He  offered,  however,  to 


LILLIAN  AS  A  DETECTIVE  149 


help  her  in  any  way  in  his  power,  promising  to  send  to 
her  the  postmark  of  any  letters  that  came  to  "No. 
197. "  The  desire  to  avenge  her  husband's  death  had 
taken  possession  of  her  with  renewed  strength.  Should 
he  who  had  committed  such  cowardly  and  heinous 
crimes  be  at  large  and  no  effort  be  made  to  bring  him 
to  an  expiation  of  his  crimes  ?  Surely  she  could  not  sit 
down  supinely  in  fruitless  grief  and  do  nothing  in 
regard  to  a  matter  that  was  never  for  one  moment  out 
of  her  thoughts  and  that  haunted  her  sleep  nightly. 
Some  steps  must  be  taken  for  the  apprehension  of 
the  murderer.  All  thought  of  her  own  safety  was 
lost  in  the  one  idea  of  avenging  Robert's  and  Helen's 
deaths.  Many  a  woman  had  done  what  a  man  failed 
to  do,  why  should  not  she?  She  had  nothing  else 
left  her  to  do  and  did  not  this  show  that  it  was  her 
duty?  While  Auntie  lived  she  felt  it  right  to  yield 
to  her  advice  and  not  bring  more  trouble  upon  the 
heart  of  one  who  had  been  such  a  true  mother  and 
friend  to  her,  but  now  she,  too,  had  been  taken  from 
her  and  the  way  to  carry  out  her  scheme  seemed  open 
to  her.  If  she  could  only  find  out  Walter  Brunette's 
hiding  place !  She  could  employ  cunning  against  cun- 
ning. Surely  under  an  assumed  name  and  character, 
with  a  disguise  made  effective  by  her  altered  appear- 
ance, she  could  deceive  even  the  deceiver.  Who  would 
connect  the  pale,  thin,  sad-eyed,  white-haired  woman 
with  the  girl  Walter  Brunette  had  known?  She  felt 
assured  she  would  be  successful.  It  would  be  worth 
the  trial  to  her,  to  whom  something  to  do  was  neces- 
sary. She  had  been  in  New  York  two  weeks  when 
a  letter  came  from  Mr.  Monroe,  containing  the  post- 
mark of  two  letters  that  had  come  to  6 '  No.  197. ' '  One 
was  "Brownley,"  the  other  "Queen's  Beach."  Mr. 
Monroe  wrote :  "Brownley  is  the  name  of  the  station 
near  which  Mr.  Brown,  Mrs.  Brunette's  brother,  used 


150  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


to  live.  That  only  shows  you  are  probably  on  the  right 
track  in  thinking  '197'  has  some  connection  with  that 
family.  After  careful  examination  of  the  direction 
of  the  letter  that  bore  the  postmark  of  'Queen's 
Beach/  I  am  under  the  impression  the  hand  was 
disguised  from  a  naturally  bold  one  to  a  stiff,  awk- 
ward one.  It  may  be  the  writer  is  Brunette  in  hid- 
ing in  disguise  there.  It  is  a  dull,  out-of-the  way  sort 
of  place,  that  a  man  trying  to  hide  himself  might 
select  as  suitable  for  that  purpose.  I  have  a  sister 
who  lives  there  and  as  I  have  been  promising  her  a 
visit  for  some  time,  I  will  run  down  for  a  day  or  two 
and  find  out  all  I  can  for  you,  telling  no  one,  of 
course,  anything  connected  with  your  business."  A 
week  after  another  letter  came  from  Mr.  Monroe  con- 
taining these  words :  "I  have  paid  the  promised  visit 
to  'Queen's  Beach.'  I  found  out  nothing  except  that 
there  is  a  nice  place  called  a  French  Villa  for  rent 
there,  already  furnished.  As  a  French  lady  you 
might  occupy  it  for  the  season  and  see  what  you  can 
do.  If  you  accomplish  nothing  the  sea-breezes  will, 
I  think,  be  very  beneficial  to  you.  I  should 
try  it,  anyway,  and  if  you  say  so,  will  write  to  my 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Bowers,  to  secure  it  for  you  for 
next  season."  Lillian  at  once  advertised  for  an  eld- 
erly lady  to  be  her  companion  and  selected  Mrs.  Marx- 
man  from  among  the  numerous  persons  who  applied. 
She  then  engaged  the  services  of  a  French  teacher  to 
renew  her  acquaintance  with  that  language.  She  had 
been  accustomed  from  a  child  to  converse  in  French 
with  her  uncle  and  it  soon  came  to  her  very  naturally. 
Her  teacher  was  very  enthusiastic  in  praise  of  her 
pronunciation  and  proficiency.  As  we  have  seen,  she 
had  carried  out  her  role  as  a  French  lady  and  won 
great  popularity  for  her  rare  beauty  and  numerous 
accomplishments,  but  she  was  not  satisfied.    With  an 


LILLIAN  AS  A  DETECTIVE  151 


open,  frank  nature,  the  thought  of  deceit,  of  the  part 
she  was  acting,  made  her  feel  ill  at  ease.  What  if  her 
friends  who  trusted  her  so  implicitly,  who  had  taken 
her  for  what  she  pretended,  should  find  out  her  duplic- 
ity, would  they,  if  they  knew  the  circumstances,  jus- 
tify her  in  the  cours#  she  was  pursuing?  Thin,  too, 
she  had  accomplished  nothing  and  felt  very  much 
discouraged.  She  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
nearly  all  the  people  in  the  town  and  by  adroit  in- 
quiries had  managed  to  learn  all  that  was  necessary 
be  known  about  the  others.  She  had  hoped  something 
from  Nell's  friend,  Mr.  Reynolds,  when  she  had  heard 
what  a  recluse  he  was  and  how  he  seemed  to  shun  so- 
ciety. With  the  thought  that  she  had  perhaps  at  last 
found  out  the  man  she  sought,  she  waited  somewhat 
impatiently  the  night  of  the  lawn  party.  But  one 
glance  into  the  face  of  the  stranger  had  assured  her 
her  hopes  were  groundless  and  as  her  acquaintance 
with  him  increased  she  forgot  even  her  suspicions. 
He  had  become  quite  a  frequent  guest,  Mrs.  Marx- 
man's  constant  presence  in  the  room  during  his  visits 
when  alone  seeming  in  no  way  to  annoy  or  disconcert 
him.  He  was  a  fine  French  scholar  and  often  they 
conversed  in  French,  much  to  her  companion's  dis- 
gust and  annoyance,  who,  like  most  of  her  class,  had 
an  amount  of  curiosity.  She  would  sit  near  the  light, 
apparently  very  intent  on  crocheting,  but  never  los- 
ing a  word  she  could  understand.  Sometimes  when 
conversing  in  French  they  would  laugh  at  something 
into  which  she  could  not  enter.  Frequently  Lillian 
would  explain  it  to  her  in  English  and  she  would  enjoy 
it  too.  If  ever  the  thought  of  Walter  Brunette  crossed 
her  mind  when  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Reynolds,  she 
would  dismiss  it  at  once.  It  seemed  really  absurd 
even  to  think  of  connecting  the  tall,  dark,  scholarly 
Mr.  Reynoldi,  with  his  low  musical  voice  in  which  a 


152 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


slight  lisp  was  perceptible,  with  Walter  Brunette's 
athletic  figure,  fair  complexion  and  blond  hair  and 
mustache,  which  only  partially  concealed  his  finely 
shaped  mouth  with  the  firm  lines  about  it,  but  which 
could  be  at  times  as  tender  as  a  woman's.  His  voice, 
too,  while  it  could  be  low  and  musical,  was  remarkably 
clear  and  distinct.  Lillian  liked  Mr.  Reynolds.  His 
versatile  conversation  interested  her.  He  was  per- 
fectly conversant  with  all  the  social,  literary  and  polit* 
ical  matters  of  the  day  and  formed,  as  it  were,  a  link 
to  bind  her  to  the  outside  world  from  which  she  had 
been  so  long  debarred.  While  this  was  true,  she  was 
becoming  uneasy  at  his  evident  and  increasing  pleas- 
ure in  her  society.  She  could  like  him  as  a  friend, 
but  the  very  idea  of  him  as  a  lover  annoyed  and 
troubled  her.  The  thought  of  ever  marrying  again 
had  never  occurred  to  her.  The  thought  of  anybody 
loving  her  save  as  a  friend  was  equally  distant  to 
her.  She  had  never  been  vain  even  in  her  palmiest 
days.  She  would  never  be  guilty  of  that  now  when 
she  felt  she  had  lost  all  of  whatever  beauty  she  might 
have  once  possessed.  She  had  been  therefore  hard 
to  convince  that  Mr.  Reynolds  thought  of  her  save 
as  a  friend,  but  latterly  his  attentions  and  looks,  some- 
times his  words,  uttered  in  French  as  if  to  prepare 
her  for  what  was  to  come,  had  startled  her  out  of 
her  former  composure.  Not  quite  a  month  remained 
of  her  time  at  the  Villa.  While  she  had  been  unsuc- 
cessful in  what  had  been  her  object  in  coming,  still 
she  did  not  regret  her  stay  tl  ^.  She  had  given 
pleasure  to  the  young  people  aiid  in  their  pleasure 
found  some  alleviation  of  her  own  grief  in  that  most 
effectual  method  of  lightening  our  sorrows.  Then, 
too,  her  sojourn  at  the  sea-side  she  knew  had  been 
beneficial  to  her  health.  She  was  much  stronger  and 
there  was  more  color  in  her  cheeks  and  lips.  While 


LILLIAN  AS  A  DETECTIVE 


153 


her  sorrow  still  tugged  at  her  heart  and  kept  it  sad 
and  sore,  yet  she  was  not  so  completely  friendless  anc 
cheerless  as  she  had  seemed  before  coming  to  the 
Beach.  In  some  of  the  families  she  had  found  con- 
genial friends.  Pearl  Bowers  she  had  learned  to  love 
as  a  dear  younger  sister,  and  Pearl  showed  her  an 
affection  that  often  reminded  her  of  Helen's  warm, 
tender  love  for  her.  Often  she  drew  the  fair,  sweet 
girl  to  her  and  kised  her  fondly,  "for  dear  Helen's 
sake."  She  had  told  Pearl  she  resembled  in  disposi- 
tion a  dear  friend  of  hers  named  Helen,  and  when 
Madame  kissed  and  petted  her  with  that  far-away  look 
she  knew  her  friend  was  thinking  not  so  much  oi 
her  as  of  the  dear  absent  one.  She  had  told  no  one  oi 
her  history,  but  all  who  knew  her  loved  and  trusted 
her,  and  had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Reynolds,  she  fell 
she  would  have  liked  to  make  her  home  at  the  Beach 
but  on  his  account  she  was  glad  she  was  going,  glad 
that  not  many  weeks  must  elapse  before  her  going. 
Till  then  she  would  be  patient  and  give  the  young  peo- 
ple as  good  a  time  as  she  could. 


154  LILLIAN  DeVERK 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  DISCOVERY. 

It  was  the  middle  of  October.  For  several  days  it 
had  been  cloudy  and  rainy— the  air  from  the  sea  cold 
and  damp,  making  a  fire  in  iPLe  open  grates  of  the 
Villa  very  agreeable.  One  night  it  was  cloudy  and 
blustering.  Mrs.  Marxman  sat  in  the  parlor  by  the 
tall  piano-lamp,  crocheting  as  usual,  but  her  eyes 
wandered  often  to  the  quiet  figure  sitting  motionless 
in  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire,  one  elbow  on  th* 
arm  of  the  chair  and  the  palm  of  the  small,  white, 
shapely  hand  supporting  the  brow  over  which  clus- 
tered curls  of  white  silken  hair.  She  was  gazing  in- 
tently in  the  fire,  apparently  finding  a  fascination  in 
the  glowing  coals.  The  glasses  which  usually  hid  the 
lovely  dark-fringed  eyes  were  lying  in  her  lap.  The 
ruddy  fire-light  gave  her  face  the  color  it  lacked  to 
make  it  as  beautiful  as  it  had  formerly  been.  The 
healthy  sea-breezes  and  being  much  in  the  open  air 
had  rounded  out  her  cheeks  and  given  her  face  its 
youthful  almost  perfect  contour.  As  Mrs.  Marxman 's 
admiring  gaze  rested  upon  her  she  wondered— first, 
what  made  Madame  even  more  than  usually  silent  and 
thoughtful,  wondered  what  she  was  thinking  about 
that  brought  the  sad,  far-away  expression  into  the  fine 
face,  wondered  why  Madame,  with  her  command  of 
money,  should  wear  no  ornament,  not  even  a  ring  on 
the  small  taper  fingers— wondered  if  Madame  would 
ever  love  Mr.  Reynolds,  who,  she  felt  assured,  loved 
only  her,  though  he  could  have  won  Miss  Nell  or  any 
of  the  girls  who  seemed  to  admire  him  so  much.  Ma- 


THE  DISCOVERY 


155 


dame  in  the  meantime  was  busy  with  her  own 
thoughts.  She  was  wondering  what  step  to  take  next. 
In  two  weeks  her  stay  at  the  Villa  would  end.  Mr. 
Bowers,  who  was  agent  for  the  owner  of  the  Villa,  and 
all  her  friends  begged  her  to  retain  it.  How  could 
they  ever  do  without  her  who  had  given  them  such  a 
delightful  season,  they  pleaded,  but  in  vain.  She 
must  go,  but  where?  To  the  Hall?  She  shuddered 
at  the  very  idea  of  spending  the  winter  there, 
going  over  again  her  sorrowful  experience.  Finally 
she  had  about  decided  to  give  up  all  detective  work, 
in  which  she  had  failed  so  signally,  and  go  back  to 
New  York.  In  that  city  she  would  gather  about  her 
a  coterie  of  congenial  friends  and  strive  to  enhance 
their  pleasure,  in  which  effort  she  would  find  her 
own.  She  should  be  ever  on  the  alert  to  relieve  dis- 
tress, to  find  fields  in  which  to  scatter  the  seeds  of 
kindness  as  Auntie  had  advised  her  to  do.  She  was 
thinking  very  seriously  of  this  when  the  door  was  sud- 
denly opened  and  Mr.  Reynolds  announced.  He  im- 
mediately followed  the  servant.  Madame,  startled 
from  her  reverie,  arose  quickly  to  greet  the  gentleman 
and,  unnoticed,  her  glasses  dropped  from  her  lap. 
Mr.  Reynolds  picked  them  up  and,  unobserved,  laid 
them  on  a  table.  Madame  had  never  liked  to  wear 
them,  only  wore  them  for  disguise.  Latterly,  as  all 
need  of  that  seemed  over  she  had  been  quite  careless 
about  wearing  them.  She  greeted  Mr.  Reynolds 
without  missing  them.  That  gentleman  had  never 
seen  her  without  them  and  seemed  startled  by  the 
great  difference  they  made  in  her  appearance.  Lil- 
lian, unheeding,  was  even  more  than  usually  animated. 
She  had  decided  upon  her  future  course  and  somehow 
felt  relieved  that  the  decision  was  made.  They  talked 
on,  at  least  Lillian  did.  She  noticed  Mr.  Reynolds 
was  unusually  silent  and  abstracted,  but  she  felt  his 
■earching  look  through  his  two  pairs  of  bright  eyes, 


156  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


that  tonight  appeared  brighter  than  their  wont  and 
sought  hers  with  such  an  eager  questioning  look,  as 
she  afterward  thought.  He  had  given  her  a  clipping 
from  a  paper  to  read  and  she,  after  praising  it,  passed 
it  to  him.  At  the  moment  a  puff  of  air  came  and 
snatched  it  from  her  hand  ere  it  reached  his  and 
Walter  Brunette,  putting  out  his  hand  suddenly 
to  save  it,  disclosed  a  scar  on  his  wrist  that 
made  all  the  blood  recede  from  Lillian's  face 
and  almost  turned  her  to  stone,  for  it  was  exactly 
like  one  "Walter  Brunette  had  shown  her  once  on  his 
wrist  and  had  told  her  it  had  been  made  by  a  knife 
in  the  hands  of  a  boy  who  had  thus  resented  a  severe 
blow  he  had  given  him  with  his  fist.  He  said  the 
blood  had  flowed  freely  and  greatly  frightened  his 
assailant,  who  hastily  bound  two  handkerchiefs 
around  his  arm,  one  to  stop  the  gushing  blood  and 
the  other  above  his  elbow,  and  had  by  this  means  saved 
his  life,  the  physicians  said,  though  they  lived  in  a  city 
and  but  a  short  time  had  elapsed  before  the  doctor 
came.  Could  this  man  be  Walter  Brunette  in  dis- 
guise? She  had  caught  his  quick  glance  on  recover- 
ing the  paper  and  she  trembled  under  it.  If  he  was 
her  worst  foe,  had  he  not  penetrated  her  disguise,  and 
learned  her  identity?  She  shuddered  at  the  thought. 
For  the  first  time  she  thought  of  her  glasses.  Oh, 
that  she  had  them  to  hide  her  eyes  from  the  man 
who  seemed  to  be  watching  her  though  his  eyes  were 
on  the  paper  which  he  was  replacing  in  the  little  red 
book  from  which  he  had  taken  it.  She  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  self-control.  There  had  been  an  awkward 
pause,  then  in  a  calm  voice  which  surprised  herself, 
she  said,  "You  came  near  losing  it.  I  would  have 
been  sorry,  for  it  is  very  beautiful."  Did  his  voice 
quiver  or  was  it  only  her  excited  imagination  that 
made  her  think  so,  as  he  answered,  '  I  would  have  re 


THE  DISCOVERY 


157 


gretted  its  loss  very  much."  Somehow  the  course  of 
the  conversation  did  not  flow  so  smoothly  as  on  former 
visits  and  more  than  an  hour  sooner  than  usual  Mr. 
Reynolds,  much  to  Lillian  's  relief,  took  his  departure, 
alleging  as  a  reason  his  fear  that  the  rain  which  was 
falling  steadily  would  increase.  Lillian  did  not  sleep 
that  night.  After  all  in  the  house  were  buried  in 
slumber  she  paced  up  and  down  in  her  room,  trying 
to  settle  some  questions  which  puzzled  her  beyond 
measure  and  upon  which  so  much  depended.  Was 
Mr.  Reynolds  Walter  Brunette  in  disguise  ?  Just  the 
day  before  she  would  unhesitatingly  have  answered 
in  the  negative.  But  now,  with  that  peculiar  scar 
which  surely  no  two  men  would  have,  with  his  changed 
manner,  with  the  quick  questioning  glance  at  her  when 
he  knew  she  saw  the  scar,  what  could  she  say  ?  Witt 
his  hair  and  mustache  dyed  and  with  a  heavy  beard 
to  conceal  his  features  and  glasses  to  hide  his  eyes, 
she  could  see  now  he  could  make  an  effective  dis- 
guise. And  yet  could  it  be  possible  that  the  popular 
journalist  was  Walter  Brunette  ?  Could  he  have  won 
such  fame  and  publicity  under  an  assumed  name  and 
character?  Then,  too,  would  not  some  instinctive  re- 
pulsion have  warned  her  against  him  who  had  de- 
stroyed her  happiness  and  wrecked  her  life  ?  Instead 
she  had  been  rather  attracted  to  him,  had  really  en- 
joyed his  brilliant  conversation.  She  must  have  fur- 
ther evidence  ere  she  could  believe  that  the  two  men 
were  one  and  the  same.  Unable  to  decide  a  ques- 
tion that  excited  her  so  much  she  then  began  to  ask 
herself,  if  the  man  was  Walter  Brunette,  did  her 
blanched  face  reveal  to  him,  in  that  quick  glance,  her 
identity?  She  had  been  very  brave  until  forced  to 
face  the  thought  of  her  enemy's  presence  near  her. 
Now  she  bagan  to  fear  him  who  had  acted  so  treach- 
erously towards  her  and  hers.    What  steps  must  she 


158 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


take  to  ensnare  him,  if  it  were  indeed  he?  She  Imew"~ 
she  must  be  wary,  indeed.  Of  one  thing  she  was  re- 
solved, she  would  never  see  Mr.  Reynolds  again  in 
her  own  home.  She  must  frame  some  excuse  if  he 
called.  Her  very  fear  of  him  would  betray  her  if 
she  were  not  already  known  to  him. 

She  thought  on  the  situation  long  and  seriously. 
The  next  morning  she  wrote  a  note  to  Mr.  Rosser,  the 
postmaster,  an  estimable  young  gentleman  who  loved 
Pearl  Bowers  and  who  had  often  been  a  guest  at  the 
Villa.  The  note  ran  thus : 
"Mr.  Rosser: 

"Pearl  Bowers  will  take  tea  with  me  tonight. 
Would  you  not  like  to  come  and  help  me  entertain 
her?    I  should  be  glad  if  you  would. 

6 6  Madame  Florine.  ' ' 

Ringing  for  the  dining-room  servant  she  gave  the 
note  into  his  hand,  saying : 

"Malcolm,  go  from  here  to  Mr.  Bowers'  and  tell 
Miss  Pearl  I  wish  her  to  come  and  spend  the  evening 
with  me,  and  if  she  says  she  wTill  come,  take  this  note 
to  Mr.  Rosser  and  give  it  into  his  hands  through  the 
window.  You  see  it  has  no  stamp  and  will  not  go 
without  one." 

On  his  return  Malcolm  said  Miss  Pearl  would  be 
glad  to  come  and  Mr.  Rosser  had  sent  her  a  note 
which  was  merely  an  acceptance  of  her  invitation. 
As  the  servant  turned  to  leave  she  asked  carelessly : 

"Did  you  see  anybody  you  knew  on  the  way?" 

"No  one,  ma'am,  but  Mr.  Reynolds,  who  stepped 
up  behind  me  on  my  way  to  the  postotfice  and  asked 
me  where  I  was  going.  I  told  him  to  the  office.  'I'm 
going  that  way,'  he  said,  very  politely,  'and  will  take 
your  mail  for  you.'  I  told  him  I  didn't  have  any 
mail  but  was  going  for  some,  so  he  passed  on  and 
didn't  even  go  to  the  office.    I  remembered  you  told 


THE  DISCOVERY 


159 


me  to  give  the  letter  into  Mr.  Rosser 's  hands  and  I 
done  so,  my  lady."  Lillian  praised  him  for  being  so 
obedient  to  her  commands  and  then  her  thoughts 
turned  again  to  Mr.  Reynolds.  Was  he  trying  to  find 
out  to  whom  she  was  writing?  It  seemed  so  by  his 
offer  to  Malcolm.  She  was  glad  the  servant  had  been 
so  obedient.  That  night  after  tea  as  Mr.  Rosser  was 
about  to  follow  Pearl  to  the  parlor,  Madame  said  to 
him,  "I  would  like  to  see  you  alone  for  a  few  min- 
utes." Leading  the  way  to  the  library  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  hall,  she  said  on  entering : 

"Mr.  Rosser,  I  wish  to  make  you  my  confidant  in 
a  matter  that  is  of  vital  interest  to  me.  Will  you 
promise  never  to  betray  what  I  am  about  to  confide 
in  you?"  Mr.  Rosser  promised  at  once.  He  had 
implicit  confidence  in  Madame  Florine  and  knew  she 
would  wish  him  to  promise  nothing  it  would  not  be 
right  to  keep.    She  continued  : 

"I  have  reason  to  doubt  that  Mr.  Reynolds  is  what 
he  appears.  I  suspect  he  is  a  man  who  has  greatly 
injured  a  family  of  which  I  was  a  member.  This  can 
only  be  proved  by  intercepting  his  private  letters. 
Will  you  notice  for  any  of  that  character  and  bring 
them  to  me?  I  will  open,  read  and  reseal  them  in 
your  presence."  Mr.  Rosser  hesitated  a  moment,  but 
Madame  said : 

"If  any  harm  comes  to  you  for  such  interference 
I  will  see  to  it  that  you  are  not  harmed  by  it." 

Looking  into  the  lovely  pleading  face,  so  pure  and 
truthful  in  its  expression,  he  gave  the  promise,  as 
almost  any  other  man  under  the  circumstances  would 
have  done.  Several  days  passed.  One  night  Mr.  Ros- 
ser presented  himself  at  the  Villa  with  two  letters 
directed  to  Mr.  A.  J.  Reynolds ;  the  post-mark  of  one 
was  quite  indistinct;  "ton"  was  all  that  could  be  dis 
tinguished  of  it. 


160 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


With  Mr.  Rosser's  help  she  carefully  opened  the 
foreign-looking  letter,  which  ran  as  follows: 
11  On  board  Scotch  Cap, 
"North  Sea,  near  London,  Oct.  2,  '18. 
1  k  Hello,  Old  Fellow  : 

"I  will  address  my  letter  to  your  last  name  and 
place,  as  I  suppose  you  still  go  under  that  name.  The 
truth  is  you  change  your  name  and  place  so  often  I 
can 't  keep  up  with  you.  Now,  Bru,  I  am  not  so  well 
pleased  with  you  as  I  would  be  if  you  had  been  as 
prompt  to  keep  your  promises  as  you  were  at  first. 
You  wrote  me  a  handsome  remittance  would  be  await- 
ing me  when  I  put  in  at  London  and  not  a  cent  can 
I  find  to  my  credit  there.  That's  a  dirty  job  of  work 
I  am  doing  for  you,  the  dirtiest  I  ever  undertook,  and 
I  am  getting  tired  of  it.  I  have  a  notion  of  washing 
my  hands  of  it  and  setting  the  poor  fellow  free.  If 
I  do,  you'd  better  look  out  or  you  know  what  will 
happen.  I  think  he  will  make  it  pretty  hot  for  you. 
You  bet  he  will.  Now,  I  don't  mean  this  as  an  idle 
threat,  'pon  my  word,  I  don't,  but  I  must  be  paid 
handsomely  for  my  part  of  the  work  or  I'll  give  it 
up  as  I  say  and  as  I  swear  I  will  do  if  that  promised 
$600  are  not  forthcoming  in  four  weeks  from  date, 
which  will  give  you  plenty  of  time  to  get  it  and  send 
it.  If  you  don't  send  it  by  that  time  you  may  know 
we  have  played  quits  and  may  prepare  yourself  for 
the  consequences.  Yours,  etc., 

"Hal  Mc." 

The  other  was  written  in  a  very  peculiar  hand  and 
read  thus: 

"Eome. 

"My  Dear  Boy: 

"Your  mother's  heart  is  aching  for  a  sight  of 
you.  Can  I  not  come  to  see  you,  if  only  for  a  day? 
I  will  be  so  careful.    Could  I  not  come  as  a  stranger, 


THE  DISCOVERY  161 


'as  a  book-agent,'  or  something  of  that  sort?  If  I 
could  only  see  you  and  feast  my  eyes  upon  you  I  think 
I  could  wait  patiently  for  another  year!  A  year! 
Just  think,  my  darling,  how  long  that  is  to  one  who 
loves  you  so  absorbingly  that  the  very  sunlight  of 
heaven  seems  darkened  when  I  cannot  look  into  your 
eyes  that  are  so  like  heaven's  own  blue.  My  darling, 
if  I  cannot  come  write  your  mother  that  you  love 
her  better  than  anyone  else,  do  you  not,  my  precious 
one?  E—  sends  love.  Write  very  soon.  Your  let- 
ters are  the  only  pleasure  that  comes  to  our  once  happy 
home.  Mother." 

As  Lillian  read  these  letters  she  knew  A.  J.  Reynolds 
was  no  other  than  Walter  Brunette,  and  her  heart 
beat  violently  at  the  thought.  She  felt  assured,  too. 
he  had  recognized  her  and  would  take  every  step  to 
thwart  her.  She  told  Mr.  Rosser  her  suspicions  were 
verified  and  asked  to  retain  the  foreign  letter  to  prove 
it.  The  out-pouring  of  his  mother's  heart  must  go 
to  him.  She  could  not  retain  that.  It  was  carefully 
resealed  and  after  her  guests  left  Lillian  sat  down  to 
plan  for  the  future.  What  must  she  do?  To  take 
any  hasty  steps  would  only  make  him  take  alarm  and 
flee.  What  was  best  to  be  done?  Oh,  that  she  had 
someone  to  advise  her  in  this  dire  emergency ! 


162 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  FATAL  PICNIC. 

The  next  evening  Nell  came  to  the  Villa  and  soon 
after  her  arrival  announced  the  fact  that  Mr.  Reyn- 
olds had  been  called  off  on  important  business  by  a 
telegram  the  day  before  and,  she  supposed,  had  left 
on  the  first  train  that  morning.  He  had  taken  all  his 
effects  that  could  be  carried  and  would  be  gone  indef- 
initely. 

i '  Mamma  says  she  thinks  Mr.  Reynolds  has  been 
expecting  this  summons  for  several  days,  as  he  has 
seemed  so  restless  and  uneasy.  He  hasn't  stayed  ai 
home  a  single  night  for  nearly  a  week,  which  is  very 
unusual  for  him,  who  has  always  been  so  regular  in 
his  habits.  Last  night  he  came  in  hurriedly  and  ex- 
citedly, saying  he  had  been  called  off  and  would  leave 
as  soon  as  possible.  He  packed  up  at  once  and  bade 
us  good-by."  When  Nell  left  and  Lillian  thought  it 
all  over  her  first  feeling  was  one  of  disappointment, 
that  her  prey,  for  which  she  had  plotted,  should  have 
eluded  her  grasp.  She  blamed  herself  for  not  putting 
the  officers  on  his  track  at  once  instead  of  waiting  foi 
further  evidence.  She  could  have  secured  that  later. 
Why  had  she  not  seized  the  opportunity  that  very 
night,  as  soon  as  she  suspected  him?  But  as  she 
reviewed  his  cunning  devices  and  duplicity  there  came 
a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  had  fled.  Like  most  of  us, 
she  felt  herself  very  strong  and  brave  when  danger 
was  distant,  but  was  weak  and  cowardly  when  brought 
face  to  face  with  its  awful  reality.  She  had  felt 
almost  afraid  to  sleep  since  she  knew  of  his  proximity 


THE  FATAL  PICNIC 


and  was  assured  he  had  penetrated  her  disguise.  Of 
what  crime  was  he  not  capable?  And  she  had  re- 
ceived this  serpent  into  her  home  and  given  him  her 
friendship!  Had  he  not  sought  it  in  order  to  per- 
fect some  perfidious  plot,  trusting  to  his  disguise  to 
aid  him?  " Yes/'  she  decided  at  last,  "it  was  best 
for  her  peace  and  safety  he  had  gone,  for,  as  Auntie 
said,  what  could  she,  an  unprotected  woman,  hope  to 
effect  against  such  a  man?"  She  would  surely  have 
fallen  into  any  trap  she  might  have  set  for  him,  and 
the  blood  almost  froze  in  her  veins  at  the  thought, 
She  had  promised  the  young  people  a  picnic  before 
she  left.  Before  she  learned  of  Brunette's  flight  she 
had  thought  to  frame  some  excuse  for  not  carrying 
out  her  plans  in  that  regard,  but  now  she  set  about 
preparation  for  it  with  some  interest.  She  would  be 
pleased  to  meet  all  her  young  friends  once  more  anc 
minister  to  their  pleasure.  They  had  all  been  so  kind 
and  respectful  to  her,  so  grateful  for  any  little  en- 
joyment she  had  given  them.  Soon  she  would  leave 
them,  perhaps  forever.  The  thought  saddened  her. 
She  would  have  liked  to  make  her  home  among  them  , 
but  she  felt  she  couldn't  do  that  without  telling  them 
all  her  sad  story— she  could  not  deceive  them  longer 
as  to  her  real  character.  That  would  necessitate  lay- 
ing bare  the  most  sacred  recesses  of  her  heart  to  public 
view,  and  subjecting  her  motives  to  harsh  criticism. 
No  one  could  put  himself  in  her  place  and  decide  what 
he  would  have  done  under  the  circumstances,  for 
surely  to  but  few  had  ever  come  such  heart-rending 
experiences.  No,  she  would  go  to  New  York  and  hide 
herself  among  its  teeming  millions.  Surely  there  she 
would  be  safe.  The  day  of  the  picnic  came.  The 
morning  was  bright  and  beautiful,  just  a  little  windy 
The  picnic  grounds  were  in  a  wood  just  opposite  a 


164 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


steep  cliff  called  "Sunset  Cliff,"  because  from  its 
summit  there  was  such  a  fine  view  of  the  sun  setting 
over  the  sea.  At  the  very  top  of  the  bluff  were  twc 
huge  rocks  separated  but  two  feet  from  each  other 
spurs  from  which  formed  comfortable  seats  from  which 
the  finest  view  could  be  obtained.  The  picnic  was  a 
success,  as  everything  Madame  had  anything  to  d( 
with  always  proved  to  be.  As  the  afternoon  advanced 
the  wind  increased  and  dark  clouds  began  to  obscure 
the  sky,  but  the  young  people,  intent  on  their  own 
pleasure,  heeded  them  not.  All  at  once  there  came 
to  Lillian  a  desire  to  view  once  more  the  scene  from 
"Sunset  Cliff. "  She  had  often  seen  the  sunset  from 
the  rocks— now  she  would  view  the  sea  in  its  fury, 
for  the  wind  was  gradually  increasing  and  the  beating 
of  the  surf  upon  the  beach  was  growing  louder.  Tell- 
ing Mrs.  Marxman,  who  was  complaining  of  headache, 
that  she  and  the  servants  could  go  when  she  wished 
and  asking  Pearl  to  seek  her  on  the  rocks  if  she  stayed 
too  late,  she  stole  off  from  the  crowd  and  ascended 
the  bluff.  What  a  grand  scene  presented  itself  to 
her !  She  had  never  seen  the  sea  so  angry.  The  bil- 
lows tossed  the  foam  higher  and  higher  as  fretful 
horses  toss  their  head  and  mane.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  save  that  one  solitary  figure  seated  there  gazing 
intently  over  the  waters.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  soli- 
tude save  the  wind  and  the  surf  roaring  along  the 
shore.  She  never  knew  how  long  she  sat  there  alone, 
busy  with  thoughts  that  somehow  seemed  to  catch  the 
madness  of  the  waters  raging  beneath  her.  At  first 
she  was  interested  only  in  the  grandeur  of  the  sight, 
then  the  scenes  of  her  life  seemed  to  come  up  before 
her  in  panoramic  review,  and  her  heart  became  hot 
and  restless.  Again  the  disappointment  of  her  effort 
to  entrap  the  man  who  had  plunged  her  life  into  suck. 


THE  FATAL  PICNIC 


165 


bitter  sorrow  stung  her.  Then,  too,  her  heart  was 
filled  with  a  great  dread— the  dread  one  ever  feels  of 
a  stealthy  and  implacable  foe.  She  could  never  fee 
safe  again,  for  he  would  pursue  her  as  a  relentless 
fate.  Nothing  but  the  grave  would  hide  her  from  his 
power.  Finally  the  darkness  brought  her  to  a  sense 
of  herself  and  her  isolated  position.  It  was  getting 
late ;  why  had  not  Pearl  or  Nell  sought  her  ?  Surely 
the  party  had  broken  up !  In  alarm  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  opening 
between  the  " Rocks' 9  and  what  she  saw  there  made 
her  fall  back  to  her  seat  in  absolute  terror,  for  there, 
shutting  her  off  from  all  hope  of  escape,  stood  Walter 
Brunette.  For  a  moment  she  thought  he  must  be  a 
creation  of  her  own  excited  fancy,  induced  by  her  over- 
wrought feelings.  But  she  was  soon  convinced  the 
man  was  a  terrible  reality.  She  put  her  hands  before 
her  eyes  for  a  minute  to  hide  them  from  those  that 
looked  upon  her  so  exultingly,  and  to  recover  herself. 
She  must  never  let  him  know  she  suspected  him  to 
be  other  than  Mr.  Reynolds.  Presently  she  looked 
up,  and  said,  as  quietly  as  she  could,  but  with  wildly 
beating  heart: 

"Mr.  Reynolds,  you  frightened  me  greatly.  I  was 
expecting  Pearl  and  looking  up  suddenly  saw  you 
standing  in  the  twilight.  Where  can  Pearl  be  ?  It  is 
getting  dark,  I  must  go, ' '  and  she  started  towards  the 
only  exit  from  her  imprisonment  and  which  Walter 
Brunette  barred  with  his  towering  figure. 


166 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SAD,  SAD  FATE ! 

With  a  light  laugh  that  sounded  the  knell  to  Lil- 
lian's hopes,  the  man  said: 

"Mr.  Reynolds,  indeed!  My  peerless  Lillian,  that 
farce  between  us  is  played  out  and  the  curtain  has 
fallen  on  the  last  act,  at  least  so  far  as  we  two  are 
concerned.  As  Mr.  Reynolds,  I  hoped  to  woo  and  win 
you  and  then  reveal  myself  to  you,  but  that  confounded 
scar  betrayed  me  prematurely.  One  glance  into  your 
face  showed  me  you  suspected  me  and  when,  shortly 
after,  I  found  a  letter  from  my  mother  had  been  tam- 
pered with,  I  knew  my  little  game  was  played  out  as 
Mr.  Reynolds.  My  disguise  was  effectual  in  mislead- 
ing you,  but,  darling,  did  you  expect,  with  those  hid- 
eous glasses,  you  could  conceal  those  lovely  eyes  that 
from  their  first  glance  have  made  me  your  most  ardent 
adorer?  Did  you  imagine  you  could,  with  that  wig  of 
false  hair,  conceal  your  dark,  silken  tresses,  that,  like 
so  many  chains,  have  bound  me  a  willing  captive  to  you 
since  first  I  knew  you  ?  Did  you,  with  your  matchless 
beauty,  imagine  you  could  in  any  way  disguise  your- 
self from  one  who  has  loved  you  so  long  and  so  ab- 
sorbingly ?  No,  no,  my  beloved,  you  could  not  I  was 
quite  assured  you  were  my  love,  my  long-separated 
love,  when  first  I  saw  you  that  night  at  the  lawn 
party.  I  knew  no  face  but  thine,  no  voice  but  thine 
could  make  my  heart  throb  and  thrill  so  rapturously. 
As  our  acquaintance  increased  I  felt  more  assured  and 
the  hope  of  winning  you  absorbed  every  thought  of 
my  being.    I  counted  the  days  and  hours  between  each 


SAD,  SAD  FATE 


167 


visit.  I  again  gave  myself  up  to  the  thought  of  bliss 
that  would  yet  be  mine.  Then  came  your  suspecting 
my  identity  and  I  felt  that  I  could  not  survive  my  lost 
hope.  You  thought  I  fled  in  cowardly  fear  of  you. 
T  fled  from  myself,  lest  I  should  commit  rashly  some 
desperate  act  that  would  forever  separate  us.  I  went 
away  but  I  could  not  stay  from  you.  Destiny  drove 
me  back.  Arriving  by  the  last  train,  Mrs.  Campbell 
told  me  about  the  picnic.  With  no  thought  nor  plan 
save  of  seeing  you  once  more  I  hastened  to  the  wood. 
On  my  way  there  I  met  Mrs.  Marxman,  who  told  me 
where  you  were.  I  hurried  to  find  you  and  saw  Miss 
Pearl  and  several  others  about  to  ascend  the  cliff  for 
you.  I  sent  them  home  and  came  myself,  feeling  that 
fortune  had  indeed  favored  me.  Come,  my  beautiful 
Lillian,  come  to  the  arms  that  will  shield  you  from 
all  harm,  all  sorrow.  Come  to  the  heart  that  has 
beaten  only  for  you  since  first  it  felt  the  influence  of 
your  entrancing  beauty  and  wondrous  grace.  Come, 
my  darling,  my  own,  my  very  own,  whom  no  earthly 
power  can  snatch  from  me.  Come,"  he  pleaded,  pas- 
sionately, in  a  low  voice  of  suppressed  feeling.  When 
he  began  to  speak  Lillian  had  arisen,  and  looked  at 
him  with  a  look  of  wild  terror  and  despair  in  the  eyes 
that  were  fastened  in  a  sort  of  fascination  upon  him. 
As  a  sense  of  her  danger  came  to  her,  as  she  realized 
how  powerless  she  was  in  the  grasp  of  this  villain,  her 
face  became  livid  and  her  whole  frame  quivered  with 
fright.  She  knew  if  she  shrieked  for  help  her  voice 
would  be  lost  in  the  roaring  of  the  waters  below  her. 
Should  she  appeal  to  him  to  let  her  go  in  peace  her 
way  while  he  pursued  his  without  an  attempt  on  her 
part  ever  to  molest  him  ?  Should  she  kneel  before  him 
as  she  had  never  knelt  to  a  human  being  and  plead 
for  her  life,  her  honor,  her  safety?   Would  there  be 


168 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


any  use  in  thus  humbling  herself?  She  looked  into 
the  face  of  the  man  who  stood  in  his  well  assumed 
disguise  before  her  to  see  if  there  was  any  mercy  tc 
be  hoped  from  him.  His  face  was  pitiless.  A  cruel, 
triumphant  smile  played  upon  the  lips  that  were  utter- 
ing words  which  she  heard  as  one  hears  not,  so  busy 
was  her  mind  with  thinking  of  escape.  But  as  he 
uttered  the  last  low,  pleading  words,  advanced  nearer 
and  held  out  his  arms  to  her,  there  was  an  instan- 
taneous change  in  her.  The  words  and  manner 
aroused  in  her  all  the  dignity  of  her  offended  nature. 
Like  a  lioness  at  bay  she  would  defend  herself  as  an 
an  outraged  woman  should.  Eaising  herself  to  hei 
full  height,  with  one  hand  extended  heavenward,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  with  dilated  nostrils,  with  an  expres- 
sion in  which  scorn  and  anger  shone,  she  said  in  a 
firm  voice  that  rang  out  clearly  on  the  damp  evening 
air: 

"  Walter  Brunette,  perfidious  traitor,  how  dare  you 
utter  such  words  to  me  who  have  been  so  long  the 
victim  of  your  relentless  cruelty  ?  Had  you  one  atom 
of  manhood  left  you  would  be  ashamed  to  open  your 
lips  in  the  presence  of  one  you  have  so  cruelly 
wronged.  How  dare  you  speak  of  marriage  to  one 
whose  noble  husband  you  cowardly  murdered  ?  When 
you,  like  an  arrant  coward,  sought  to  kill  him  with 
me  by  his  side,  and  I  thought  he  was  dead,  I  swooned 
and  was  ill  for  months.  During  that  sickness  all  my 
hair  came  out  and  this  white  hair  came  in  its  place, 
the  effect  of  your  wickedness,  a  testimonial  of  the  love 
I  bore  my  husband.  Can  you  for  one  moment  imagine 
I  would  marry  his  slayer,  who  took  advantage  of  him 
in  the  darkness  and  sent  him  to  his  fate  ?  Never ! 
Never!  Never!  Rather,  a  thousand  times  rather, 
would  I  share  his  fate  and  die  like  him,  than  live  to 


SAD,  SAD  FATE 


169 


dishonor  him  and  myself  by  a  union  with  you,"  and 
she  gazed  defiantly  into  the  steel  blue  eyes  of  the 
man  who  gazed  with  insolent  admiration  upon  her. 
She  drew  back  slightly  and  continued: 

"Kill  me  if  you  will,  and  throw  me,  as  you  did  my 
husband,  over  the  precipice.  But  do  not  touch  me— 
don't  dare  put  your  hand  on  me,"  and  she  drew  back 
her  queenly  figure,  lest  he  profane  her  with  a  touch 
of  his  hand. 

Never  had  Lillian  looked  more  beautiful  than  she 
did  now  in  the  full  majesty  of  her  insulted  woman- 
hood. Brunette  had  never  seen  her  in  such  a  role, 
but  he  had  never  seen  her  driven  to  such  desperation. 
Instead  of  being  shamed  by  her  words,  he  only  lookec 
at  her  fondly,  exultingty.  He  could  not  give  up  this 
superb  creature,  for  whom  he  had  dared  so  much  and 
who  was  now  so  completely  in  his  power.  She  had  es- 
caped him  once— she  could  not  escape  him  now.  How 
her  beauty  burned  into  his  very  soul !  He  could  with 
difficulty  repress  the  impulse  to  catch  her  to  his  breasi 
and  kiss  away  the  disdainful  expression  that  lurked 
on  the  sweet  lips,  so  like  twin  rose-buds.  But  he  did 
resist  the  impulse  and  said  quietly : 

"Calm  yourself,  my  lovely  tragedy  queen.  You 
have  fine  histr ionic  talents  that  would  bring  you  the 
plaudits  of  admiring  thousands  were  you  on  the  stage, 
but  you  have  but  me  to  act  for  and  it  is  getting  too 
dark  for  me  to  take  it  in  fully.  Calm  yourself,  my 
love,  and  yield  to  the  inexorable  fate  that  decrees 
you  shall  be  mine— mine— 'to  have  and  to  hold  till 
death  do  us  part.'  You  know  you  are  absolutely  in 
my  power.  Say  but  one  word,  dearest,  and  ere  the 
town  clock  strikes  again  you  will  be  mine. '  One  step 
nearer  he  came,  with  out-stretched  hand— almost  near 
enough  to  touch  her.  She  sprang  back  suddenly  to 
the  very  verge  of  the  precipice.    Earth  and  stones 


no 


LILLIAN  I>eVERE 


rattled  away  under  her  feet,  but  she,  in  her  excite- 
ment, did  not  heed  them.  A  fragment  of  rock  fol- 
lowed. She  felt  something  slipping  beneath  her  feet. 
For  one  moment  she  struggled  to  gain  ground.  Bru- 
nette, realizing  her  danger,  sprang  forward  to  rescue: 
her.  She  threw  out  her  arms  to  ward  him  off  and 
went  over  the  cliff.  With  the  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation she  clutched  at  the  sides  of  the  cliff  for  some 
support.  She  caught  something  that  held  her  a  sec- 
ond, then  she  found  it  giving  way  under  her  weight, 
and  she  fell  a  short  distance  lower  and  seized  a  spui 
of  rock  on  the  side  of  the  cliff.  For  another  second 
or  two  she  felt  herself  suspended  in  mid-air.  She 
heard  a  voice  calling  to  her  from  above  and  looking 
up  saw  a  pale,  agonized  face  leaning  over  the  preci- 
pice and  heard  the  words : 

' 6  Hold  on  for  your  life.    I  will  try  to  rescue  you. ' ' 
The  words,  instead  of  reassuring  her,  seemed  to  take 
away  what  little  of  strength  she  had  left.    She  let 
go  and  went  to  her  fate. 

When  Brunette,  who  had  entertained  the  idea  oJ 
descending  the  precipice  to  attempt  the  rescue  of  the 
woman  whom  he  loved  so  madly,  looked  over  the  brink 
ere  he  began  the  dangerous  descent  and  could  descry 
nothing  save  the  foaming  waters,  could  hear  nothing 
save  the  angry  surging  of  the  billows  as  they  broke 
against  the  rocks  beneath,  he  became  almost  wild  with 
grief  and  disappointment.  To  lose  her  when  he  was 
so  sure  of  her  almost  bereft  him  of  reason  and  he 
strode  back  and  forth,  trying  to  calm  the  tumult  that 
raged  within. 


AFTER  EVENTS 


111 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AFTER  EVENTS. 

About  two  months  before  the  tragic  event  described 
in  the  last  chapter,  Lillian  had  sat  at  an  open  window 
of  the  Villa,  gazing  out  with  a  very  thoughtful  look 
upon  her  fair  face.  Just  a  short  time  before  she  had 
learned  of  the  death  of  a  lady  who,  after  partaking 
of  a  hearty  breakfast  and  seemingly  as  well  as  pos- 
sible, had  died  suddenly  on  arising  from  the  table. 
When  Lillian  heard  this  she  was  aroused  out  of  her 
usual  composure  by  asking  herself: 

^Suppose  that  lady  had  been  I?  Auntie  had 
seemed  as  wrell  as  usual  and  had  passed  away  in  the 
night  apparently  without  a  struggle.  I  am  as  likely 
to  die  as  they  and  if  I  should  die  now  I  should  be 
buried  among  strangers  and  under  an  assumed  name. ' ' 
Mr.  Monroe  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  who 
knewr  all  her  history  and  the  role  she  was  playing, 
and  she  had  bound  him  up  to  absolute  secrecy  about 
her  affairs.  Even  her  lawyers,  believing  she  was  still 
in  New  York,  sent  her  money  there  and  this,  and  such 
letters  as  were  written  to  her  on  business  by  them, 
were  sent  to  her  by  Mrs.  Archer,  a  friend  with  whom 
she  boarded  while  in  Ne/w  York,  and  to  whom  she 
had  partially  confided  her  history.  She  must  pro- 
vide for  the  emergency  of  sudden  death  and  let  every- 
thing be  done  decently  and  in  order,  as  should  become 
the  mistress  of  the  Hall.  She  must  plainly  express 
her  last  wishes  that  she  might  feel  assured  in  life 
they  would  be  carried  out  at  her  death— a  consola- 
tion most  of  us  like  to  have.    She  was  pondering  on 


172 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


these  things  that  bright  morning,  whose  golden  beams 
were  flooding  every  object  with  glory,  and  life  seemed 
to  call  her  thoughts  from  anything  so  dark  and  serious 
as  death.  But  Lillian  saw  as  one  who  sees  not  the 
loveliness  of  nature,  and  after  awhile  a  look  of  decision 
took  the  place  of  the  far-away  expression.  Arising 
she  procured  writing  materials  and  was  soon  rapidly 
filling  the  pure  white  pages  with  marks  from  her  pen. 
Mrs.  Marxman  wondered  what  she  was  writing  about 
and  to  whom  she  was  writing.  The  lady  found  every 
day  something  about  Madame  to  wonder  at.  Once 
she  had  wondered  aloud  that  Madame  received  and 
wrote  so  few  letters.  Madame  had  replied  quietly  that 
she  had  no  relative  in  the  world  of  whose  existence 
she  knew  and  she  had  but  few  friends  with  whom  she 
wished  to  correspond—that  the  few  letters  she  wrote 
were  on  business.  So  this  morning  it  was  not  strange 
she  should  wonder  to  whom  such  a  Jong  letter  was 
being  written. 

When  Lillian  had  finished  and  re-read  it,  she  sealed 
it  carefully,  then  writing  these  words  on  a  piece  of 
paper,  "Messrs.  Budd  and  Anderson,  0—.  Come  at 
once  to  Queen's  Beach  on  important  business,"  she 
handed  the  paper  to  Mrs.  Marxman  and  said : 

' '  Mrs.  Marxman,  if  I  should  die  suddenly,  or  should 
lose  my  life  by  accident,  when  you  are  fully  assured 
of  my  death,  send  the  telegram  on  that  paper  to  the 
parties  mentioned  and  when  a  stranger  shall  appear, 
bearing  the  name  of  either  gentleman,  deliver  into  his 
hand  this  letter  which  I  shall  put  in  my  desk,  the 
key  of  which  I  shall  deposit  in  this  tiny  drawer  out- 
side, in  which  I  keep  my  stamps."  Mrs.  Marxman, 
awe-struck  at  the  serious  face  turned  to  her,  had  made 
the  promise,  little  dreaming  there  would  ever  be  any 
occasion  for  its  fulfillment. 


AFTER  EVENTS 


173 


Never  had  the  little  town  been  thrown  into  greater 
excitement  and  grief  than  by  Madame  ?s  sad  fate 
as  announced  and  described  by  Mr.  Reynolds,  whose 
sorrow  and  excitement  were  intense.  A  boat  was 
speedily  procured  and  some,  from  admiration  and 
sympathy  for  the  beautiful  woman,  and  some  incited 
by  the  hope  of  winning  the  large  reward  that  Mr. 
Reynolds  had  offered  for  her  rescue  or  the  recovery 
of  the  body,  set  out  on  the  raging  waters.  Those 
most  accustomed  to  the  dangers  of  the  ocean  said  no 
boat  could  live  in  such  a  sea  and  warned  those  who 
entered  against  attempting  anything  so  dangerous, 
but  Mr.  Reynolds  seized  an  oar  and  under  his  strokes 
the  boat  went  rapidly  forward.  It  was  soon  found 
however,  that  the  attempt  meant  only  death  to  those 
who  were  fool-hardy  enough  to  proceed,  for  the  boat 
was  in  momentary  danger  of  capsizing  and  plunging 
its  occupants  into  a  watery  grave.  Mr.  Reynolds  was 
the  last  to  give  up  hope  and  seemed  not  to  hear  when 
it  was  deemed  necessary  to  return.  He  only  kept  his 
place  and  rowed  on  with  renewed  vigor,  but  at  lasl 
the  men  assured  him  they  were  unwilling  to  go  fur- 
ther. Without  a  word,  but  with  a  groan  that  seemed 
to  come  from  a  broken  heart,  he  threw  down  the  oar 
in  despair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He  dis- 
appeared from  the  Beach  that  night  and  nothing 
more  was  ever  heard  of  Mr.  Reynolds.  The  news  of 
Madame 's  death  had  produced  the  greatest  grief  and 
consternation  at  the  Villa.  Mr.  Reynolds  had  told 
that  he  and  Madame  had  stood  viewing  the  grandeur 
of  the  ocean.  Absorbed  in  the  view  neither  had 
noticed  how  near  the  brink  of  the  cliff  they  were,  until 
Madame  ?s  foot  had  suddenly  slipped,  displacing  a 
fragment  of  rock  upon  which  she  stood  and  ere  he 
could  recover  himself  sufficiently  to  seize  her  she  had 


174 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


fallen  over  the  precipice.  Madame  had  ^een  greatly 
beloved  by  all  the  servants  and  Mrs.  Marxman  was 
almost  beside  herself  with  grief.  She  had  lost  the 
best  home  she  had  ever  had  and  it  was  a  sad  loss  to 
a  poor,  dependent  woman. 

In  the  midst  of  her  sorrow  she  remembered  hei 
promise  to  Madame,  made  two  months  before,  and. 
producing  the  telegram,  she  had  taken  it  to  the  tele- 
graph office  and  asked  the  operator  to  direct  the 
the  person  who  should  answer  it  to  the  Villa  on  his 
arrival.  A  short  time  after  the  morning  train  came, 
a  tall,  elderly  gentleman,  dressed  in  professional  black 
and  with  a  dignified,  professional  air  about  him,  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  Villa,  sending  in  his  card,  uWm. 
G.  Anderson."  From  those  congregated  at  the  depot 
he  had  learned  something  of  the  death  of  the  French 
lady  by  drowning  the  night  before.  He  had  heard 
them  say  a  boat  had  sought  the  place  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff  to  which  the  lady  had  fallen  and  had  found 
on  a  raft  of  drift  wood  a  tiny  lace  handkerchief  with 
the  name  "Lillian"  on  it,  and  a  bunch  of  keys,  but 
nothing  more  could  be  learned.  He  had  wondered 
in  a  professional  way  how  he  could  be  connected  with 
the  death  of  this  mysterious  stranger,  of  whom  noth- 
ing was  known  but  her  name.  She  must  have  left  a 
will  bequeathing  her  property  to  her  relatives  in 
France,  and  having  heard  in  some  way  of  his  firm  had 
entrusted  it  to  their  care-— a  very  wise  proceeding,  he 
had  thought,  as  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the  Villa 
and  noted  the  elegant  taste  and  beauty  of  the  sur- 
roundings. 

Opening  the  letter  Mrs.  Marxman  at  once  presented 
to  him,  he  began  to  read  it  with  mingled  curiosity  and 
interest.  As  he  read  a  look  of  the  deepest  astonish- 
ment came  into  his  face  and  this  was  superseded  by 


AFTER  EVENTS 


175 


a  look  of  great  sadness.  When  he  had  finished  he  said 
aloud : 

"What  an  untimely  end;  what  a  sad  close  to  a  life 
that  promised  so  much  happiness  but  which,  alas !  was 
one  of  almost  unprecedented  sorrow  and  trouble." 
Mr.  Anderson  went  himself  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  and 
saw  the  fragment  of  stone  dislodged  that  had  sent 
to  her  doom  the  beautiful  women  he  had  known  so 
long  and  respected  so  highly.  In  the  letter  she  had 
written  that  when  the  letter  was  put  in  his  hands 
she  would  be  dead,  and  she  wished  him,  without  tell- 
ing her  sad  story  to  anyone,  to  have  her  body  carried 
to  the  Hall  and  buried  by  the  side  of  her  husband 
and  a  monument  similar  to  his  erected  to  her  mem- 
ory. She  wished  everything  to  be  very  quietly  done, 
that  there  might  be  no  emblazoning  in  the  papers  the 
sad  events  connected  with  her  life  and  death.  She 
left  a  little  bequest  to  Mrs.  Marxman  and  all  the  serv- 
ants, which  was  to  be  paid  with  the  money  she  should 
leave  in  her  desk.  Among  her  papers  Mr.  Anderson 
found  a  will  made  while  in  New  York.  In  this  she 
ordered  that  an  advertisement  be  put  in  all  the  lead- 
ing papers  of  the  country  for  any  heirs  of  the  Nelson 
family,  and  if  they  should  prove  their  claim,  however 
distant  the  relationship,  the  entire  estate  should  be 
theirs.  In  case  none  should  be  found  in  a  quarter 
of  a  century  the  whole  estate  which  Robert  had  left 
to  her  in  fee  simple  was  to  go  to  such  charitable  in- 
stitutions as  those  who  had  charge  should  deem  best. 
Every  effort  was  made  to  recover  the  body,  but  failing, 
all  other  directions  were  carefully  and  quietly  carried 
out  as  she  had  desired.  A  tall  monument,  bearing  her 
name,  date  of  birth  and  death,  was  placed  at  the  side 
of  the  one  which  had  been  erected  to  her  husband. 
Mrs.  Coles  and  all  who  had  known  and  loved  the  sweet, 
gentle  mistress  of  the  Hall,  shed  many  tears  over 


176 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


her  death,  and  the  grand  old  home  settled  down  to 
greater  grief  and  loneliness  than  it  had  ever  known. 
Superstitious  people  shook  their  heads  as  they  spoke 
in  whispers  of  the  old  Squire 's  curse  falling  upon  even 
the  first-born.  The  first  weekly  edition  of  the  "  Beach 
Nut"  gave  a  very  touching  account  of  the  death  of 
the  beautiful  and  mysterious  stranger,  who  had  so 
greatly  endeared  herself  to  all  by  her  remarkable 
beauty  and  grace  of  manner.  The  excessive  grief  of 
Mr.  Reynolds  was  commented  upon,  which  wove  a  very 
sad  but  interesting  romance  around  the  memory  of 
one  whose  untimely  death  had  thrown  such  gloom  over 
the  whole  community. 


WHAT  DAVID  FOUND 


177 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WHAT  DAVID  FOUND. 

David  Kelly  was  a  good  fisherman.  He  caught  his 
fish  and  took  them  to  Otley,  a  little  town  two  miles 
inland.  There  were  two  mills  there  in  active  opera- 
tion at  which  several  hundred  hands  worked.  The 
mill  hands  had  found  out  that  David  was  honest  and 
reliable,  kind  in  disposition  and  reasonable  in  his 
price,  so  he  had  no  difficulty  in  disposing  of  his  fish 
and  managed  by  industry  and  economy  to  make  a 
livelihood  for  his  little  family.  One  morning  he 
awoke  very  early  and  arose  at  once.  The  sea  had  been 
quite  rough  the  day  before  and  this  had  interfered 
with  his  plying  his  occupation.  When  he  went  to  the 
door  of  his  cabin  and  listened  he  knew  by  the  sound, 
to  which  he  had  so  long  been  accustomed,  that  the 
ocean  was  calm  again.    He  aroused  his  wife,  saying : 

"  Hannah,  make  haste  and  get  up  and  get  us  some 
breakfast  and  enough  to  last  us  all  day.  ' Old  Boss'  is 
all  right  again,"  then,  putting  his  head  in  the  door 
of  one  of  the  shed  rooms,  he  called  out : 

"Get  up,  Silas,  'Old  Boss'  is  as  quiet  as  a  lamb 
again  and  we  must  make  up  for  its  raging  so  yester- 
day. We  didn't  make  our  salt.  Get  up  at  once  and 
help  me  bale  the  water  out'n  the  boat,  while  Han* 
nah  ?s  getting  breakfast. ' ' 

Silas  Dean  was  Dave's  hired  man.  Dave  proceeded 
to  light  his  lantern  and  went  out  to  feed  the  horse 
and  cow,  while  Silas  helped  Hannah  by  bringing  the 
water  and  wood.  The  frugal  meal  was  quickly  pre- 
pared, for  Hannah  was  indeed  a  helpmeet  to  her  hus- 
band, who  loved  her  in  his  simple  way  better  even 


178 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


than  when  he  married  her,  a  bonny  girl  ten  years 
before,  for  was  she  not  the  mother  of  his  children  and 
as  such  worthy  of  more  love  for  their  sakes  ?  he  argued. 

" Where's  Hetty?'7  Dave  asked  at  breakfast. 
"Why  didn't  you  call  her  up  to  help  you,  Hannah?" 

"Because,"  Hannah  replied,  "Hetty  worked  on  the 
machine  so  hard  yesterday  and  so  late  last  night  and 
was  so  tired  I  wanted  her  to  rest  this  morning,  as 
we  won't  be  very  busy  today  and  can  get  the  sewing 
done  in  plenty  of  time  for  you  to  carry  it  tomorrow. ' ' 

Dave  smiled  and  said:  "I'm  afraid  you'll  spoil 
Hetty —you 're  so  good  you  spoil  us  all,  wife." 

"No,  no,  Dave,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "Hetty  is 
not  easy  to  spoil.  She's  always  ready  and  willing  to 
do  anything  I  want  her  to  and  for  that  reason  I 'm  not 
willing  to  impose  on  her  any  more  than  I  would  if 
she  was  my  own  sister,  you  know. ' ' 

"Yes,  we  know  you  wouldn't  impose  on  anything 
or  anybody,  Hannah,"  he  said  kindly  as  he  rose  fronj, 
the  table.  Kissing  the  little  boy  and  girl  that  were 
sleeping  quietly  in  the  little  trundle  bed,  he  said 
cheerily : 

"Well,  good-by,  Hannah.  You  needn't  look  for  us 
until  we  get  our  baskets  full,  and  I  don't  know  when 
that'll  be— there's  no  telling,  you  know."  Soon  the 
boat  was  speeding  over  the  waters,  lighted  by  the  lan- 
tern which  was  held  alternately  by  David  and  Silas,  to 
allow  the  other  to  rest.  They  were  making  for  ' c  Skin- 
ner's  Pint,"  as  the  fishermen  called  it,  which  was  a 
noted  fishing-place.  It  was  still  so  dark  nothing  could 
be  discerned  save  by  the  glimmering  light  of  the  lan- 
tern, which  Silas  held  above  his  head,  that  it  might 
send  its  light  as  far  out  as  possible.  All  at  once  he 
asked  excitedly: 

"Mr.  Kelly,  what's  that?" 

"What?"  asked  David,  who  was  busy  rowing. 


WHAT  DAVID  FOUND 


179 


4 '  That  yonder  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  It  looks  like 
somebody  dead,  Avith  long  white  hair,  lying  on  the 
drift-wood.5' 

"No,  'taint,  I  reckon,"  Dave  answered  carelessly. 
"It's  jest  the  foam  on  the  wood  that  gathers  there 
such  a  day  as  yesterday,  but  we'll  row  there  and  see. 
'Taint  much  out'n  the  way."  They  soon  reached  the 
spot  and  saw  to  their  great  surprise  and  horror  the 
body  of  a  woman  stretched  on  a  raft  of  drift-wood, 
her  white  hair  hanging  in  tangled  masses  about  the 
face  which,  upturned,  was  pale  and  white  as  death. 
The  men  gazed  awe-stricken  upon  it. 

"She's  a  pretty  cretur,  shore  you'se  born.  Come, 
Silas,  help  me  up  with  her. ' ' 

"What  you  goin'  to  do?"  asked  Silas,  with  a  pale, 
scared  look  on  his  usually  stolid  face. 

"Why,  man,  I'm  goin'  to  carry  her  home.  Ef  all 
the  life  ain't  out'n  her,  Hannah  will  bring  her  'round. 
Ef  she's  dead  we  will  give  her  a  decent  burial,  poor 
thing!" 

Tenderly  the  two  men  took  up  the  body,  so  appar- 
ently lifeless,  her  garments  saturated  with  the  spray 
of  sea-water  that  had  dashed  against  the  raft  upon 
which  she  lay.  Dave  wrapped  her  closely  in  his  over- 
coat, which  he  always  carried  in  case  of  rain  or  change 
of  weather,  and  with  her  head  in  his  lap  he  told  Silas 
to  get  home  as  soon  as  possible,  he  in  the  meantime 
chafing  with  his  rough  hand  the  delicate  brow  and  soft 
shapely  hands  of  the  woman  whose  body  was  lying  so 
pale  and  motionless  at  his  feet.  Hannah,  in  the  mean- 
time, had  milked  the  cow,  fixed  the  milk  to  churn, 
had  made  the  bed,  swept  the  floor  and  was  hurrying 
to  get  her  room  cleaned  up  before  Hetty  and  the  chil- 
dren woke,  when,  on  going  to  the  door,  she  saw,  in 
the  dim  light,  two  men  approaching  apparently  bear- 


180  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


ing  a  burden  between  them.  It  looked  like  Dave  and 
Silas. 

What  could  it  mean?  Throwing  down  the  broom 
with  which  she  had  come  out  to  sweep  the  steps,  she 
ran  to  meet  the  men,  whom  she  knew,  as  they  drew 
nearer,  were  her  husband  and  Silas.  Dave  quickly 
told  her  all  he  knew  of  the  body  they  bore  and  said, 
"Run,  Hannah,  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  put  some 
rugs  and  a  pillow  on  the  floor  before  the  fire;  she's 
wet  and  cold,  if  not  entirely  dead,  and  I'll  go  for 
Dr.  Ashley  at  once.  Make  up  a  big  fire  and  get  the 
sperits.  ■ 9  Hannah  hurried  back  and  by  the  time  they 
arrived  at  the  cabin  everything  had  been  prepared. 

"Oh,  how  young  and  pretty,  Dave,"  Hannah  ex- 
claimed, as  she  saw  the  white,  sweet  face  so  death-like 
in  its  pallor.  Dave  wet  the  pale  lips  with  the  spirits, 
and  then  with  directions  to  his  wife  for  her  and  Hetty 
to  change  the  wet  garments  for  dry  ones,  he  set  out 
on  the  horse  Silas  had  saddled,  for  Dr.  Ashley,  who 
lived  a  mile  away  on  the  road  to  Otley.  After  chafing 
the  face  and  hands  with  tears  in  her  kindly  eyes,  Han- 
nah went  to  the  steps  and  called  out : 

"Hetty,  Hetty,  come  down  quick.  I  want  you  right 
away. ' ' 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  was  the  ready  answer,  and  a  few 
minutes  after  Hetty,  a  bright,  pretty  girl  of  seven- 
teen, Dave's  sister,  who  lived  with  them  and  helped 
Hannah  sew  for  the  mill  hands,  appeared.  Hannah 
met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stair  and  told  her  of  the 
lovely  stranger,  apparently  dead,  lying  so  cold  and  pale 
in  the  next  room.  Hetty  listened  with  wide-open  eyes, 
and  almost  before  "Sister"  stopped  her  recital,  had 
gone  on  tip-toe  to  the  room.  With  mingled  curiosity 
and  sadness  she  gazed  at  the  beautiful  woman. 

"Oh,  sister,"  she  said,  in  an  awe-struck  whisper, 
"she  is  dead,  and  oh,  so  pretty!  so  very  pretty!" 


WHAT  DAVID  FOUND  181 


At  first  Hetty  shrunk,  with  a  young  person's  nat- 
ural fear  of  death,  from  the  task  of  helping  Hannah 
take  off  the  dainty,  wet  garments,  and  replacing  them 
with  the  clean,  coarse  dry  garments  of  Hetty,  who 
was  about  the  lady's  size,  but  she  never  shirked  duty, 
however  disagreeable. 

"Oh,  sister,  here  is  a  name  on  the  clothing.  'Lil- 
lian, '  is  on  every  one  of  them,  and  how  fine  and  nice 
they  are.  What  a  pretty  little  foot,  sister.  Do  you 
think  she  could  have  jumped  from  the  cliff  or  did  she 
fall,  you  reckon?  Her  soft  white  hands  are  torn  as 
if  she  tried  to  catch,"  then  a  few  minutes  after  she 
exclaimed,  excitedly: 

"Oh,  sister,  I  think  I  saw  her  lid  quiver.  Oh,  sis- 
ter, she  isn't  dead.  Oh,  I  wish  the  doctor  would  come ! 
I  believe  he  could  bring  her  to  life.  Didn't  you  see  it, 
sister ? ' '  Hannah  replied :  "I  thought  I  saw  a  slight 
quiver,  but  it  may  have  been  the  flickering  fire-light. ' ' 
Dr.  Ashley  made  his  appearance  with  Dave,  who  had 
found  him  about  to  set  out  for  Otley.  After,  a  care- 
ful examination  of  the  body  he  said  he  didn't  think 
life  was  entirely  extinct,  but  it  was  so  nearly  so 
he  thought  it  extremely  doubtful  about  arousing  it. 
As  Hetty  sat  at  the  lady's  head  stroking  gently  the 
silken  locks,  she  said  suddenly: 

' '  Oh,  doctor,  there  is  blood  on  her  hair,  look  here ! ' ' 
Certainly  there  was,  and  on  lifting  the  thick,  white 
mass  a  deep  scar,  made  by  some  sharp  object  upon 
which  she  had  fallen,  was  disclosed  clotted  with  blood. 

"Ah,"  Dr.  Ashley  said;  "that's  an  ugly  gash,  so 
near  the  brain,  and  accounts  for  the  deep  swoon. ' '  It 
was  carefully  washed  and  treated,  after  the  surround- 
ing hair  had  all  been  cut  off  the  small,  shapely  head, 
giving  it  a  very  peculiar  appearance.  Dr.  Ashley 
stayed  nearly  all  day,  leaving  no  effort  untried  to 


182 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


arouse  the  little  spark  of  life  that  showed  itself  occa- 
sionally in  theslightest  flutter  of  the  pulse  or  a  scarcely 
perceptible  quiver  of  the  lids  or  lips.  The  doctor  said 
the  limbs  must  be  chafed  with  spirits  and  the  lips 
moistened  with  it.  If  she  was  alive  the  next  day  when 
he  came  there  would  be  some  hope  of  restoration. 


AT  THE  FISHERMAN'S  HUT  188 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AT  THE  FISHERMAN 's  HUT. 

About  dark,  much  to  Hannah's  relief,  Mrs.  Ashley 
came  to  spend  the  night  and  help  nurse  the  lady.  Dr. 
Ashley,  who  had  to  go  to  a  very  sick  patient  at  Otley, 
had  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  home  to  tell  his  wife 
about  the  strange  lady  who  lay  so  near  death's  door 
at  the  cabin.  Her  interest  was  at  once  awakened. 
She  was  a  true  physician's  wife,  loving  his  profession 
scarcely  less  than  he  did,  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  all 
his  patients.  Often,  before  so  many  children  came  to 
her  home  to  claim  her  attention,  she  had  been  installed 
as  nurse  in  the  sick  room  of  persons  who  needed  care- 
ful nursing  more  than  medicine,  and  by  her  unremit- 
ting care  and  tact  as  a  nurse  had  done  more  for  their 
recovery  than  her  husband  had  done  by  his  skill.  She 
was,  indeed,  his  able  coadjutor  in  his  work,  for  he  told 
her  all  about  his  sick  people  and  acted  often  on  the 
practical  advice  she  gave  in  regard  to  their  cases- 
Hannah  knew  her  most  gratefully  as  a  good  nurse, 
for  when  little  Ben,  their  eight-year  old  boy,  was  a 
wee  baby,  Mrs.  Ashley  had  helped  her  nurse  him 
through  a  long  illness  back  to  life,  when  even  the  doc- 
tor had  despaired.  When  Hannah  saw  Mrs.  Ashley 
she  went  out  to  meet  her  and  said: 

6  '  Oh,  Mrs.  Ashley,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.  I 
have  been  praying  God  as  fervently  as  I  knew  how 
to  spare  the  lady,  and  now  you  have  come  I  feel  He 
will  answer  me."  Mrs.  Ashley  smiled  at  the  earnest 
face  and  manner  of  the  woman,  whom  she  respected 
highly  for  her  sterling  qualities  of  head  and  heart. 
Though  humble  in  station,  she  was  some  of  the  salt 


184 


LILLIAN  DeVERIS 


of  the  earth  that  had  not  lost  its  savor.  After  giving 
some  parting  directions  to  Kalph,  her  handsome  first- 
born, who  had  driven  her,  and  ending  with,  "Tell 
Miss  Pansy  to  take  good  care  of  baby  and  I  will 
return  with  your  father  when  he  comes  tomor- 
row," she  went  with  Hannah  into  the  cabin  and  gazed 
with  intense  interest  at  the  still  pale  face  with  its 
exquisitely  delicate  features  that  looked  now  as  if  they 
were  chiseled  in  marble.  Anxiously  she  felt  for  the 
pulse,  fearing  lest  life  had  already  fled,  but  a  little 
flutter  showed  a  little  life  still  remained  and  while 
there  is  life,  however  little,  there  is  hope,  however 
slight.  All  night  the  two  women  watched  and  waited, 
taking  turns  in  chafing  the  limbs  with  brandy,  moisten- 
ing the  lips  with  the  wine  Mrs.  Ashley  had  brought. 
There  seemed  no  change  until  about  day,  the  lips  some- 
times opened  and  muttered  incoherent  words— the  fig- 
ure moved  slightly.  When  Dr.  Ashley  came,  early  the 
next  morning,  he  gave  some  hope  of  recovery  if 
brain  fever  did  not  result.  The  next  evening  as  Han- 
nah sat  by  the  bed-side  sewing,  a  slight  movement  of 
the  body  attracted  her  attention  from  the  button- 
holes she  was  working.  A  glance  showed  her  a  pair 
of  large,  dark  eyes,  the  most  beautiful  she  had  ever 
seen,  fixed  upon  her  with  something  like  reason  in 
them,  but  oh,  so  wild  and  pathetic  in  their  expres- 
sion! Hanah  bent  over  and  said  softly:  "You  are 
better!"  A  strange  look  full  of  pleading  came  into 
the  eyes  and  Hannah  bent  to  catch  the  words. 

"Hide  me;  please  hide  me,  and  don't  let  anyone 
know  where  I  am.  He  will  find  me,  and  I'd  rather 
die.  Hide  me;  oh,  hide  me."  At  the  last  words  she 
sprang  up  and  seemed  about  to  jump  from  the  bed, 
but  Hannah's  firm  hands  placed  her  back  on  her  pil- 
low, while  she  soothed  her  with  gentle  words  as  she 
would  have  done  a  frightened  child.  When  the  doetor 


AT  THE  PISHERMA^^S  QXJT  IU 


was  told  of  this  and  her  increased  restlessness,  and 
the  ceasless  tossing  of  the  head  from  side  to  side, 
when  he  neard  words  of  entreaty,  of  anger,  of  scorn 
on  the  lips  that  had  been  so  still,  he  shook  his  head 
very  gravely  and  said: 

* 4  Some  exciting  experience,  together  with  the  con- 
cussion upon  her  head,  has  produced  brain  fever, 
which  is  more  difficult  to  cope  with  than  the  long  stu- 
por into  wnich  she  first  fell.  I  feared  thisL  It  will 
be  hard  on  you  and  your  family,  Mrs.  Kelly.  If  I 
could,  I  would  remove  her  to  my  homo,  but  she  is  too 
ill  now  to  think  of  that  Nora  is  deeply  interested  in 
the  lady,  and  will  help  you  all  she  can,  and  I,;  of 
course,  will  give  her  all  the  time  and  care  I  can  spare 
from  my  other  patients." 

"Oh,  doctor,"  Hannah  said,  "if  she  will  only  live, 
we  are  willing  to  do  all  we  can  for  her,  and  doctor,  I 
promised  her  we  would  keep  her  secret  and  not  let 
anybody  know  she  is  here.  Help  me  to  keep  that 
promise.  I  think  she  must  have  fled  from  an  unkind 
husband  whom  she  fears,  and,  it  may  be  his  cruelty 
drove  her  to  cast  herself  from  the  cliff." 

Dr.  Ashley  said  thoughtfully:  "I  do  not  think 
she  jumped  from  the  cliff  with  the  intention  of  sui- 
cide. If  so,  she  would  either  have  been  drowned  at 
once,  or  the  fall  from  such  a  height  on  the  driftwood 
would  have  killed  her.  She  must  have  slipped  over 
and  broken  the  fall  by  catching  at  some  objects  on  the 
side  of  the  cliff.  You  notice  her  hands  are  torn 
as  if  by  contact  with  something  rough,  probably  a 
spur  of  the  cliff. 1 ' 

Hannah  said:  "I  hope  she  didn't  intend  to  kill  her- 
self—she is  so  beautifoU  and  seems  to  have  suffered 
so  much.  " 

The  next  day  the  lady  was  no  better.  Sometimes 
it  took  Dave,  Hannah  and  Hetty  to  keep  her  on  the 


186'  ;  MLLIA&  DeVERE 


bed,  so  anxious  was  she  to  flee  from  some  impending 
danger.  When  not  violet,  she  would  toss  her  head  in- 
cessantly and  moan  as  if  in  great  pain,  but  there 
was  no  consciousness  in  the  wild  eyes  when  open 
—  nothing  to  show  she  realized  the  pain  she  felt. 

One  morning  Dr.  Ashley  called  for  the  scissors,  and 
while  Hannah  and  Hetty  stood  tearfully  by,  cut  off 
all  the  silken  hair  close  to  her  head.  He  had  said 
when  Hetty  begged  him  not  to  cut  off  the  pretty  hair : 

"  It  must  be  done  to  relieve  the  fevered  brain  of 
its  weight.  Besides,  if  she  recovers,  which  seems  very 
improbable  now,  it  would  come  out  anyway.  It  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  peculiar  hair  I  ever  saw  on  the 
head  of  a  grown  person,  especially  one  with  such 
dark  eyes,  lashes  and  brow.  It  is  more  like  the  first 
white  silken  locks  of  infancy.7' 

There  wrere  many  weary  days  of  waiting  and 
watching  to  the  ininates  of  the  cabin  and  Dr.  Ashley 
and  his  wife,  all  of  whom  took  the  deepest  interest  in 
their  charge.  In  her  delirium  she  had  made  them 
realize  something  of  the  many  troubles  that  had 
fallen  into  her  life.  Of  course,  they  could  not  con- 
nect her  words  enough  to  give  any  idea  of  who  she 
was  or  how  she  had  suffered,  but  they  knew  she  had 
suffered  deeply,  and  from  no  fault  of  her  own. 

Strangely  enough,  Dr.  Ashley,  who  was  the  attend- 
ant physician  of  the  millhands,  among  whom  there 
was  much  sickness,  did  not  hear  anyone  speak  of  the 
account  in  the  Beach-Nut  of  Madame  Florine's  death 
or  he  would  have  suspected  the  identity  of  the  stran- 
ger to  that  lady.  Living  apart  from  the  world,  busy 
with  his  own  duties,  he  knew  little  of  what  was  going 
on  outside  of  his  own  circumscribed  sphere.  So  Lil- 
lian \s  secret  was  kept  as  securely  as  she  would  have 
wished  had  she  been  conscious.  Slowly  she  came  back 
to  life,  but  so  slowly  as  scarcely  to  be  perceptible 


AT  THE  FISHERMAN'S  HUT 


181 


even  to  those  who  watched  her  so  closely  and  were 
so  anxious  for  her  improvement. 

The  spirit  that  had  hovered  so  long  on  the  confines 
of  time  and  eternity,  fluttered  feebly  its  wings  first  to 
the  time  side,  then  to  the  eternity  side,  leaving  them 
in  doubt  as  to  which  it  would  finally  take  its  flight. 
But  she  lived.  Someone  has  said  that  Nature  occa- 
sionally performs  miracles  for  the  purpose  of  dem- 
onstrating the  possibility  of  the  impossible.  It 
seemed  so,  indeed,  in  this  case. 

Lillian  had  been  at  the  cabin  nearly  two  months 
before  the  light  of  reason  came  to  her.  Sometimes 
there  had  been  a  gleam  of  consciousness  as  the  eyes 
sought  inquiringly  the  faces  of  those  about  ner,  but 
before  her  scattered  senses  could  collect  themselves 
she  had  sunk  back  into  unconsciousness.  But  one 
morning  when  Hannah  was  very  busy  helping  Hetty 
to  get  the  sewing  of  the  mill-hands  done  for  the  com- 
ing holidays  next  week,  she  left  Lillian  apparently 
sleeping  and  went  into  the  next  room.  On  her  return 
she  saw  the  large,  dark  eyes  watching  her  curiously, 
as  she  sat  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  There  was  a  light 
in  them  she  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"Will  you  tell  me  where  I  am?"  asked  a  very  soft, 
low  voice. 

A  smile  of  delight  beamed  from  Hannah's  kindly 
face  as  she  answered:  "With  friends,  my  dear  lady, 
who  have  befriended  you  in  your  need." 

"You  won't  betray  me  to  my  enemy,  will  you?" 
was  asked  eagerly. 

- '  Oh,  no,  indeed ;  we  all  love  you  too  much  to  allow 
anyone  to  do  you  any  harm." 

■ ' Love  me ?  Who  loves  me?"  again  asked  the  sweet 
voice. 

"Oh,  we  all  here,  and  the  doctor  and  his  wife." 


188 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


"The  doctor?  Have  I  been  sick?"  she  inquired,  as 
if  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  very  sick,  but  you  are  much  bet- 
ter now.  It  is  time  for  your  medicine.  You  must 
take  it  and  try  to  sleep.7' 

She  swallowed  the  medicine  mechanically  as  she 
had  taken  all  medicine  and  nourishment  for  so  many 
weeks.  But  consciousness  had  come  now,  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  sleep.  As  in  a  dream,  she  began  to  watch 
those  about  ner,  to  wonder  why  she  was  there. 

As  the  days  and  weeks  passed,  and  she  gained  phy- 
sical strength,  minel  and  memory  gradually  asserted 
their  former  power  and,  by  degrees,  she  learned  the 
events  that  had  transpired.  She  knew  she  had  again 
almost  miraculously  escaped  Walter  Brunette's 
power.  He  and  her  few  friends  believed  her  dead. 
Sh£  was  glad  of  this.  She  could  elude  her  foe  now 
surely,  for  the  world  was  too  big  for  them  to  cross 
each  other's  path  again.  She  made  no  plans  for  the 
future  except  that  she  must  no  longer  tax  the  hospi- 
tality of  the  family  whose  great  kindness  and  care 
she  so  greatly  appreciated. 

One  morning  she  awoke,  and  opening  her  eyes  sud- 
denly, smiled  at  the  sweet  picture  she  saw.  By  the 
side  of  her  bed,  very  still,  stood  Ben  and  Ruthie,  Ben 
with  a  little  tin  w^gon  to  which  a  tin  horse  was  har- 
nessed, in  his  hand,  and  Ruthie  hugging  closely  to 
her  a  little  china  doll.  They  were  looking  upon  her 
with  their  bright,  earnest  faces  a  little  subdued. 
They  had  crept  on  tiptoe  to  the  bedside.  Perhaps 
the  pale  face  awed  them.  Lillian  held  out  her  thin, 
transparent  hand  in  welcome  and  said :  * '  Good  morn- 
mg,"  very  sweetly. 

The  children  smiled  and  returned  the  good  morn- 
ing, and  Ben  said:  "We  came  to  show  you  what 
Santa  Claus  brought  us.    Sister  hm  such  a  pretty  doll 


AT  THE  FISHERMAN'S  HUT  189 


and  I  have  a  nice  wagon,  and  we  have  some  candy 
and  apples,  too.  Won't  you  have  some?"  and  they 
held  out  their  dainties  to  her— dainties  at  least  to 
them,  doubly  acceptable  because  Santa  Claus  had 
brought  tnem. 

Lillian  never  forgot  that  picture.  In  after  years, 
when  she  arranged  the  yearly  Xmas  box  for  the 
children,  with  many  useful  gifts  for  the  older  mem- 
bers of  the  family  packed  in,  too,  she  recalled  it  with 
pleasure  and  loved  to  think  of  the  enjoyment  the 
advent  of  the  box  would  give  to  the  dear  little  boy 
and  girl  who  had  so  few  gifts,  but  who  could  keenly 
appreciate  those  that  came  to  them. 

One  bright  evening  in  February  she  was  sitting  in 
an  easy  chair  Dr.  Ashley  had  brought  her,  looking 
out  of  the  back  window.  They  wouldn't  let  her  get 
a  view  of  the  sea  yet,  lest  it  might  excite  her.  She 
was  learning  to  walk  again.  When  they  first  led  her 
to  her  seat  at  the  window,  the  doctor  and  Hannah  had 
so  greatly  assisted  her  she  did  not  realize  her  weak- 
ness. A  few  days  after  she  tried  to  return  to  the 
bed  by  her  own  strength,  and  had  to  slide  to  the  floor 
to  prevent  herself  from  falling.  Hannah  found  her 
there,  and  begged  her  never  to  attempt  it  again  until 
she  became  stronger.  When  one  day  she  had  walked 
across  the  room  unassisted,  Hannah  was  as  proud  as 
of  Ben  or  Ruthie's  first  steps.  On  this  evening  she 
felt  stronger,  and  hearing  the  children's  voices  in  the 
front  yard,  she  walked  slowly  to  the  front  window, 
drew  back  the  chintz  curtains  and  gazed  out.  The 
sea  lay  before  her.  It  was  very  placid  now,  very  un- 
like it  was  when  she  had  seen  it  last. 

Just  then  Ben  and  Ruth  came  into  sight,  and  their 
bright  young  faces  and  interest  in  their  sport  took 
her  mind  from  the  sadder  subjects.  Ben  was  riding 
Ruthie's  little  doll  in  his  little  tin  wagon.  How 


190 


LILLIAN  DeVBRE 


happy  they  looked  in  this  innocent  glee  as  Ben,  who 
was  acting  horse,  would  caper  and  prance,  toss  his 
head  and  then  run  along,  overturning  the  doll,  which 
seemed  not  to  be  worsted  by  her  rude  treatment. 
\  No  one  would  have  recognized  in  this  thin,  pale, 
hollow-eyed  woman  with  her  head  covered  with  its 
short  black  hair  that  was  rapidly  replacing  the  white 
silken  tresses,  the  brilliantly  beautiful  Madame  Flor- 
ine  of  a  few  months  previous.  She  was  so  absorbed  in 
watching  the  children  she  did  not  note  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Ashley's  entrance,  and  was  surprised  when  Mrs.  Ash- 
ley spoke  to  her.  She  smiled  at  her  with  that  rare, 
sweet,  sad  smile  that  Mrs.  Ashley  said  affected  her 
more  than  other  people's  tears.  She  smiled  back  a 
bright,  happy  smile  as  she  said : 

4  '  You  are  much  better  to-day  ?" 

1  i Oh,  yes,"  Lillian  replied  brightly  in  return,  "so 
well  I  have  been  thinking  to-day  and  have  decided  to 
ask  a  favor  of  you.  Will  you  and  Dr.  Ashley  take 
me  to  board  with  you  a  few  months  until  I  get  strong 
enough  to  make  my  plans  for  the  future?  I  am 
aware  this  is  a  great  favor  to  ask  of  you  by  one  of 
whom  you  know  nothing,  but  I  can  assure  you  that 
while  I  have  been  unfortunate,  rendered  so  by  the 
cruelty  of  one  who  has  crossed  my  life  and  thrown  the 
darkest,  deepest  sorrows  in  it,  yet  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  not  receive  me  into  your  home  as  an 
equal,  as  you  will  know  when  I  tell  you  my  history,  a 
task  to  which  I  am  unequal  yet.  Till  then  will  you 
trust  me  ?  I  feel  I  cannot  longer  tax  the  hospitality 
and  kindness  of  these  good  people.'' 

When  she  finished  Mrs.  Ashley  said  laughingly: 
"Now,  that's  right  strange.  Dr.  and  I  came  over  this 
evening  to  invite  you  home  with  us,  and  you  have 
gotten  ahead  of  us.  We  brought  the  carriage  to  take 
you  back,  as  we  had  no  idea  of  letting  you  refuse  us." 


AT  THE  FISHERMAN'S  HUT 


1.91 


Satisfactory  arrangements  were  soon  made  for  Lil- 
lian's departure.  Everybody  at  the  cabin  parted 
with  her  with  many  regrets.  They  had  learned  to 
love  her  very  dearly,  and  felt  that  they  were  part- 
ing with  a  true,  good  friend,  as  she  ever  afterwards 
proved.  Ben  and  Ruthie  clung  about  her  neck  and 
would  not  be  comforted  until  she  had  promised  Ben  a 
wagon  large  enough  to  pull  Ruthie  in,  and  Ruth  was 
to  have  a  doll  that  could  cry  and  go  to  sleep.  Hannah 
and  Hetty  watched  the  carriage  as  long  as  they  could 
see  it,  and  then  Hetty  said  with  tears: 

" Sister,  we  will  miss  her  so  much.  Our  home  will 
never  be  like  it  was  before  she  came,  for  she  is  so  beau- 
tiful, so  gentle  and  so  sweet,  she  made  it  pretty  just 
like  a  pretty  picture." 


* 

m  LILLIAN  IteVERE 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WITH  HER  NEW  FRIENDS. 

One  beautiful,  bright  summer  morning,  when  Lil- 
lian had  been  at  Dr.  Ashley's  about  two  months,  the 
doctor  stood  at  an  open  window  watching  her  flitting 
among  the  flowers  with  the  children,  admiring  with 
them  the  floral  bloom  and  fragrance  of  the  yard.  She 
looked  very  lovely  in  her  dainty  white  morning  dress. 
The  quiet  of  this  congenial  home  and  the  pure  coun- 
try air,  with  enough  of  the  sea  to  make  it  still  more 
beneficial,  had  restored  her  to  almost  her  accustomed 
health  and  strength.  Her  cheeks  had  rounded  and 
resumed  their  delicate  color.  The  sweet  lips  looked 
again  like  twin  rosebuds,  and  little  dark  silken  curls 
clustered  where  for  so  long  the  white  hair  had  held 
its  sway,  giving  the  face  its  former  youthful  expres- 
sion and  radiant  beauty. 

When  she  had  first  come  to  herself,  in  her  weakness 
of  mind  and  body,  she  had  almost  regretted  she  had 
not  gone  out  of  the  life  that  had  been  so  sad  and 
lonely  for  so  many  years,  and  into  which  Walter 
Brunette,  who  stili  lived,  had  brought  so  much  bitter- 
ness. What  had  she  to  live  for,  pursued  as  she  should 
ever  be  by  fear  of  this  man  who  had  so  often  crossed 
her  life  and  thrown  his  dark  shadows  over  what  peace 
she  had  been  enabled  to  find  in  existence  ?  ' c  It  would 
have  been  better  to  have  died,"  she  thought,  but  with 
renewed  health  and  strength  came  healthier  ideas 
and  feelings—came  the  natural  desire  to  1  'bear  the 
ills  we  have  rather  than  fly  to  those  we  know  not  of," 
and  she  was  glad  now  she  had  not  found  a  watery 


WITH  HER  NEW  FRIENDS  193 


grave ;  thankful  to  God  that  He  had  preserved  her  life, 
and  that,  in  her  need  she  had  found  such  true  friends. 
It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  live  to  brighten  the  lives  of 
those  about  her— to  help  with  her  means  the  inmates 
of  the  humble  cabin  to  whom  under  heaven  she  owed 
her  life.  Yes,  it  was  good  yet  to  live  and  feel  the 
health  and  blood  flow  in  her  veins  and  with  a  capacity 
to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  world  with  its  many 
attractions.  Lillian  was  enjoying  this  lovely  morn- 
ing and  a  smile  was  on  her  lips  and  a  light  in  her 
dark,  expressive  eyes,  that  had  lost  some  of  the  sad- 
ness that  for  several  years  had  found  a  lurking  place 
there.  Dr.  Ashley,  watching  her,  thought  he  had 
never  seen  a  person  with  such  brilliant,  soulful 
beauty. 

One  evening  after  the  children  had  all  retired  she 
had  told  the  doctor  and  his  wife  her  sad  story.  It 
was  painful  for  her  to  review  the  past,  fraught  with 
so  much  trouble,  but  she  knew  it  was  due  the  friends 
who  had  received  her  so  confidingly  into  their  family. 
Mrs.  Ashley  had  wept  in  sympathy  and  had  begged 
her  to  stop,  when  her  voice  sometimes  quivered  at  the 
recital  of  her  many  troublous  experiences,  but  she 
kept  bravely  on.  When  she  had  finished,  Mrs.  Ash- 
ley, with  sympathy  too  deep  for  utterance,  had  put 
one  arm  lovingly  around  her  waist  and  with  the  other 
clasped  tightly  one  of  Lillian's.  Dr.  Ashley  had  said 
in  surprise : 

"And  you  are  Mrs.  Nelson,  present  mistress  of 
Randolph  Hall,  of  which  I  have  heard  all  my  life. 
My  maternal  grandfather  lived  with  us  in  his  last 
days,  and  as  a  boy  I  have,  with  wonder  and  fear,  lis- 
tened to  his  story  of  the  Hall,  near  which  he  had  lived 
in  his  youth  and  which  he  had  once  visited.  I  re- 
member how  grand  a  place  he  thought  it  was.  I  re- 
member, too,  how  fascinated  I  would  be  when  he 


194 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


would  tell  me  of  the  old  Squire's  ghost  that  came  to 
bring  death  to  the  young  children. ' ' 

Lillian  had  shuddered  as  she  recalled  the  first  time 
she  had  heard  the  story  of  the  ghost  from  the  lips  of 
one  who  had  since  brought  greater  curses  and  darker 
troubles  to  the  Hall  than  ever  the  ghost  of  the  old 
Squire  had  done— even  admitting  the  absurd  story— 
for  the  ghost  had  brought  death  to  the  young  and 
innocent,  had  called  them  early  to  the  happiness  of 
heaven,  while  Walter  Brunette's  hand  had  dashed 
out  the  life  of  the  last  two  descendants  of  the  old 
Squire  and  brought  grief  and  wreck  to  her  they  had 
loved. 

Dr.  Ashley  was  thinking  of  her  sad  story  as  his 
eyes  rested  admiringly  upon  her  who  had  but  a  few 
months  before  been  so  near  death's  door  even  he,  usu- 
ally the  last  to  lose  hope,  had  despaired  of  her  life, 
and  now  she  was  so  buoyant  with  renewed  health  and 
strength.  How  grateful  he  was  for  the  part  he  had 
had  in  her  restoration.  How  beautiful  she  was  and 
how  unfortunate! 

Mrs.  Ashley  just  then  entered  the  room  and  he 
called  her  to  his  side  to  speak  the  admiration  he  felt 
at  the  pretty  scene  before  them.  Mrs.  Ashley,  bright, 
enthusiastic  in  her  nature,  and  in  her  love  and  admi- 
ration of  Lillian,  was  soon  using  all  the  choice  adjec- 
tives in  our  language  to  describe  her.  After  a  pause 
Dr.  Ashley  said : 

"That  Brunette  was  a  villain  of  the  deepest  dye, 
and  yet  I  can't  help  being  sorry  for  him.  It  made 
him  desperate  to  love  and  lose  so  beautiful  and  lovely 
a  woman." 

"Sorry  for  him!"  Mrs.  Ashley  exclaimed  with 
flashing  eyes.  "Sorry  for  him,  indeed!  I  am  so 
sorry  for  him  that  I,  who  have  never  felt  I  could  en- 
dure the  sight  of  a  hanging  man,  could  stand,  I  think, 


WITH  HER  NEW  FRIENDS 


195 


coolly  and  pitilessly,  and  see  the  cap  drawn  over  his 
eyes  and  then  his  body  dangling  in  the  air. ' 9 

4 4 Now,  my  little  wife,  don't  talk  so  bravely  nor  be 
so  indignant  with  me  for  my  sympathy  with  the  poor 
fellow  until  I  explain  myself.  I  think  the  man  must 
be  insane-— nothing  short  of  insanity  could  justify 
his  course. ' ' 

"Insanity,  indeed  !"  was  the  sarcastic  reply.  "He 
was  sane  enough  to  plot  so  skilfully  as  to  elude  those 
who  would  have  brought  him  to  justice.  Then,  too. 
Mrs.  Nelson  said,  in  his  role  of  Mr.  Reynolds,  he  had 
acquired  quite  a  reputation  as  a  journalist,  so  you 
see  your  theory  is  at  fault  in  that  defense  of  his  per- 
fidious character." 

"Not  so  fast,  my  dear.  Remember  'there  is  method 
in  madness.'  We  often  hear  of  instances  in  which 
the  insane  outwit  those  wTho  are  sane,  and  so  it  may 
be  in  this  instance.  If  insane,  he  is  a  monomaniac- 
insane  only  for  love  of  this  beautiful  woman,  and  as 
a  madman,  willing  to  do  or  dare  anything  to  get  her 
to  marry  him.  If  he  were  not  mad  he  would  not  wish 
a  wife  who  he  knows  must  abhor  and  fear  him. ' ' 

"I  don't  believe  one  word  of  anything  like  that. 
If  he  were  caught,  his  lawyers  would  doubtless  bring 
in  the  plea  of  insanity  for  his  defense  and  argue 
just  as  you  are  doing  to  prevent  his  receiving  his  just 
deserts.  Men  are  always  trying  to  palliate  or  excuse 
in  some  way  the  crimes  of  their  own  sex,  while  they 
all  unite  in  harsh  criticism  against  our  sex  for  the 
slightest  departure  from  the  rules  of  law  or  morality. 
I  can  assure  you  if  you  should  put  on  the  jury  me 
and  eleven  other  sensible  women,  there  would  be  no 
hung  jury— no  delay  in  bringing  out  the  verdict  of 
'guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree,'  and  no  recom- 
mending the  prisoner  to  the  clemency  of  the  judge." 

With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  the  doctor  retorted:  "I 


196  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


doubt  not  such  would  be  the  verdict  of  any  twelve 
women  who  always  judge  a  case  by  their  own  feelings 
rather  than  by  the  evidence.  I  for  one  will  never 
give  them  the  ballot— nor  jury  box"— and  he  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  lest  he  should  bring  down  on  his 
slightly  bald  head  a  torrent  of  reproaches  against 
men  in  general  for  his  defense  of  one  in  particular. 

Lillian,  ignorant  of  the  good-natured  but  spirited 
discussion  between  the  doctor  and  his  wife,  smiled  at 
the  children's  praise  of  their  several  favorites  and 
their  desire  to  get  her  to  agree  with  each  of  them, 
Very  bright  and  free  from  care  she  looked  as  she 
used  h*r  tact  to  keep  the  children  from  thinking  her 
partial,  calling  attention  to  the  respective  merits  of 
each  flower  so  adroitly  they  did  not  suspect  she  was 
trying  to  evade  a  puzzling  question.  Just  then  the 
nurse  appeared  with  baby  Maggie,  and  soon  Lillian 
was  playing  with  it,  tossing  it  up,  listening  to  its  in- 
fantile laugh  and  coo  with  keenest  delight.  Mrs.  Ash- 
ley, with  true  mother's  heart,  thought  as  she  watched 
her  she  had  never  seemed  so  lovely,  so  truly  womanly. 
In  this  pleasant  home  Lillian  had  found  the  peace 
and  security  to  which  she  had  long  been  a  stranger. 
She  allowed  no  thought  of  "Walter  Brunette  to  in- 
trude to  mar  her  quiet  enjoyment. 


THE  DEAD  ALIVE 


197 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  DEAD  ALIVE. 

Lillian  and  Mrs.  Ashley  had  been  planning  for  sev- 

eral  months  to  go  to  0  and  reveal  to  the  lawyers 

the  fact  that  she  was  yet  alive.  After  she  had  told 
her  story,  she  had  wished  Dr.  Ashley  to  write  to 
them  to  come  on  imperative  business,  which  would  be 
satisfactorily  explained  on  their  arrival,  but  Mrs. 
Ashley  had  been  so  anxious  for  them  all  to  go  to 
0   to  surprise  the  lawyers  with  her  sudden  ap- 
pearance, to  see  if  they  would  recognize  her,  that  at 
last  she  had  yielded  to  that  lady's  entreaties.  Dr. 
Ashley  placed  at  her  disposal  a  little  sum  he  had  in 
bank  for  a  rainy  day  which  she  could  use  until  he 

and  his  wife  could  accompany  her  to  0  .  Lillian 

had  insisted  that  it  would  be  taxing  their  kindness 
too  far — that  she  wished  as  soon  as  possible  to  cor- 
roborate her  statements  to  them,  which  they  had  taken 
on  her  word  only,  but  they  assured  her  they  believed 
her  implicitly  and  it  was  probable  she  would  need 
their  corroboration  to  prove  her  strange  story  more 
than  they  would  the  lawyers  to  prove  her  claim  as 
Mrs.  Nelson.  Dr.  Ashley,  at  Lillian's  request,  had 
subscribed  for  some  of  the  leading  papers  and  in  them 
she  had  seen  the  advertisement  for  heirs  to  the  es- 
tate. Suppose  one  should  prove  his  claim  and  get 
the  property?  That  was  hardly  probable,  as  she  had 
never  heard  of  any  relatives  of  the  family,  and  even 
in  that  case,  Moss  Side  would  still  remain  to  her,  the 
income  from  which  would  be  amply  sufficient  for  all 
her  wants.    She  would  not  contest  it  if  any  heir  or 


199 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


heirs  had  been  found,  as  she  wished  some  descendant 
to  have  the  property.  So  she  waited  very  patiently 
for  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley's  opportunity  to  go  with 
her  to  the  city.  It  seemed  hard  for  them  to  get  off. 
The  first  time  they  decided  to  go  Dr.  Ashley  was 
called  off  professionally ;  then  the  twins,  Norman  and 
Norma,  were  sick  for  two  weeks;  then  Arthur,  the 
second  boy,  had  a  long  case  of  fever.  So  November 
came  before  they  could  go  on  their  trip — more  than 
a  year  since  she  had  so  suddenly  disappeared.  It 
was  lovely  Indian  summer  weather  when  they  set  out 
in  the  carriage  for  the  station  next  to  Queen's  Beach. 

It  was  dark  when  they  arrived  at  0  .  Lillian 

was  registered  as  "Mrs.  L.  D.  Devereux,"  a  name 
she  had  decided  to  assume  lest  Walter  Brunette 
might  again  persecute  her  if  he  knew  of  her  exist- 
ence. Enveloped  in  a  very  thick  black  widow's  veil, 
she  went  from  the  carriage  to  her  room  at  the  hotel 
and  Mrs.  Ashley  took  all  her  meals  to  her,  lest  some- 
one might  recognize  her.  Lillian  had  given  over  to 
Mrs.  Ashley  the  manner  in  which  she  should  be  pre- 
sented to  the  lawyers.  She  herself  wished  to  see  if 
the  lawyers  would  recognize  her  with  her  changed 
hair.  Proceeding  the  next  morning*  to  the  office  of 
Budd  and  Anderson,  they  alighted  and  were  shown 
into  the  private  parlor  of  those  gentlemen. 

"Two  ladies  and  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir,"  an- 
nounced the  obsequious  clerk  to  Mr.  Anderson,  who 
sat  at  his  desk  overwhelmed  with  business,  as  that 
firm  usually  was. 

"What  names?" 

"They  give  none,  sir."  With  a  little  frown  con- 
tracting his  serene  brow,  Mr.  Anderson  arose  and 
went  to  the  parlor,  dismissing  the  frown,  however, 
before  he  entered.   He  greeted  the  strangers  with  the 


THE  DEAD  ALIVE 


199 


dignified  courtesy  habitual  to  him.  Lillian  threw 
aside  her  veil  and  advanced  to  meet  him  with  her  ac- 
customed ease  of  manner,  but  with  a  throbbing  heart. 
Would  he  know  her?  He  looked  into  her  slightly 
flushed  face  and  gave  a  perceptible  start,  but  he  was 
too  used  to  strange  events  to  be  thrown  off  by  a  re- 
semblance, however  striking,  so  recovering  himself, 
he  took  the  hand  she  held  out  and  said:   1 ' This  is — " 

k '  Mrs.  Nelson, ' '  Mrs.  Ashley  replied  at  once.  ' 4  She 
is  our  friend  and  has  come  to  prove  her  claim  to  the 
Nelson  estate." 

The  old  lawyer  looked  at  her  searchingly  now  and  a 
look  of  surprise  came  into  the  face  that  usually  kept 
its  own  secrets. 

"On  what  ground  do  you  rest  your  claim?"  he 
asked. 

"On  the  ground  that  I  am  the  last  representative 
of  that  family.  Do  I  resemble  the  members  of  the 
family  ? 

"Not  at  all,"  was  the  decided  answer,  "but  you 
are  the  very  counterpart  of  the  wife  of  Robert  Nelson, 
the  last  known  descendant  of  the  family.  You  are 
just  like  she  was  when  I  first  knew  her.  After  a  se- 
vere illness  her  hair  fell  out  and  in  its  place  white 
hair  came,  which  altered  her  appearance  greatly." 

"What  became  of  the  lady?"  asked  Mrs.  Ashley. 

Mr.  Anderson's  face  saddened  as  he  replied:  "She 
was  drowned  about  a  year  ago — fell  from  a  cliff  while 
viewing  the  ocean." 

"Was  her  body  recovered?" 

"No,  ma'am,  though  every  effort  was  made  to  re- 
cover it.  Her  handkerchief  and  keys  were  found  on 
a  raft  of  driftwood,  but  her  body  was  doubtless  car- 
ried away  by  the  waves,  which  were  very  high.  But 
you  must  be  a  relative  of  the  lady?" 


200 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Lillian  could  stand  i:  no  longer.  Looking  into 
his  face  with  a  bright  smile,  she  asked: 

"Mr.  Anderson,  do  you  really  not  know  me?  Do 
you  not  suspect?  I  am  Robert  Nelson's  wifo,  not 
drowned  as  you  supposed.  I  was  rescued  by  some 
fishermen  and  in  their  home  and  that  of  my  friends 
here,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley,  I  have  been  since,  coming 
back  to  the  life  and  health  I  was  so  near  losing  by 
the  treachery  of  the  man  who  has  been  the  implacable 
enemy  of  my  happiness  for  so  many  years,  even  Wal- 
ter Brunette.' ' 

Mrs.  Ashley  had  pictured  to  herself  many  times 
the  astonishment  that  would  seize  the  lawyers  when 
they  learned  of  Lillian's  rescue,  but  imagination  had 
not  drawn  it  so  great  as  it  appeared.  Mr.  Anderson, 
for  once,  was  astonished  beyond  measure,  so  much 
so  he  could  not  utter  a  word  for  several  minutes 
after  Lillian  had  stopped  to  catch  her  breath,  for  she 
had  spoken  rapidly.  His  glasses  were  adjusted  and 
readjusted  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  searching  Lil- 
lian for  some  proof  of  the  incredible  assertion  she 
was  making.  Lillian  smilingly  said, .  as  she  noted 
this : 

"I  am  prepared  to  prove  all  I  have  said.  Dr.  Ash- 
ley was  my  physician,  to  whose  skill,  united  with  the 
nursing  of  his  wife  and  my  new-found  friends,  I  owe 
my  restoration  to  the  life  so  miraculously  spared  by 
my  Heavenly  Father." 

"But  your  hair!"  almost  gasped  Mr.  Anderson, 
who  at  last  recovered  speech. 

"Was  cut  off  oy  the  doctor  during  the  fever  that 
followed  my  rescue,  and  this  dark  hair,  like  my  first 
hair,  came  out  in  its  stead." 

It  took  all  the  morning  to  give  Mr.  Anderson  the 
details  of  the  events  that  had  transpired  since  she 


THE  DEAD  ALIVE 


201 


had  last  seen  him  and  when  she  had  finished  he  said : 

' '  I  can  hardly  yet  believe  the  evidence  of  my  own 
eyes  and  ears.  It  seems  more  like  a  recital  of  the 
unreal  events  of  a  modern  romance  than  the  simple 
ungarnished  truth.  I  know  you  are  what  you  claim. 
Every  look,  gesture,  act,  convinces  me,  apart  from 
your  words,  that  you  are  Robert  Nelson's  wife.  Mr. 
Budd,  who  is  absent  as  usual  on  business,  will  be 
equally  astonished  and  pleased  to  know  that  you  are 
alive  and  so  much  like  your  former  self.  He  will  no 
longer  be  worried  by  examining  the  claims  of  the 
many  Nelsons  wTho  have  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  the 
property. ' ' 

Then  Lillian  told  him  her  plans.  At  first  he  urged 
her  to  go  back  to  the  Hall  and  live,  but  when  he 
knew  the  great  dread  that  she  still  felt  lest  Walter 
Brunette  should  know  she  was  living  and  again  mo- 
lest her,  he  became  quite  assured  that  she  was  right. 
She  would  never  appear  in  this  section  again;  would 
go  to  New  Orleans,  seek  out  a  friend  of  Robert's  and 
Helen's,  and  under  her  protection,  try  to  live  out  the 
remainder  of  her  life  in  peace,  if  not  in  happiness. 
As  Mrs.  Devereux,  the  name  Uncle  Henri  had  wished 
her  to  bear  and  of  which  probably  Walter  Brunette 
had  never  heard,  she  would  doubtless  be  able  to  es- 
cape him  if  he  should  ever  cross  her  path  again. 

4 'That  miscreant  deserves  death  a  dozen  times/' 
Mr.  Anderson  had  said  hotly  when  he  learned  of  the 
part  Walter  Brunette  had  played  in  Lillian's  falling 
from  the  cliff.  "I  would  advise  you  never  to  try  to 
turn  detective  any  more,  my  dear  madam.  If  that 
man  is  shrewd  enough  to  outwit  the  best  detectives, 
to  so  completely  disguise  himself  and  his  movements 
that  those  most  skillf  ul  in  finding  out  crimes  cannot 


202 


LILLIAN  DeVBRE 


even  get  on  his  track,  you  had  better  not  try  to  ac- 
complish anything  in  that  line/' 

Lillian  assured  him  nothing  was  further  from  her 
thoughts  than  to  undertake  anything  so  difficult  and 
dangerous.  Somehow,  the  strange  story  he  had  just 
heard  and  the  reappearance  of  one  he  had  confidently 
believed  dead  quite  unnerved  the  usually  calm  Mr. 
Anderson,  who  could  not  get  to  work  after  the  de- 
parture of  his  visitors  with  his  usual  ability  to  go 
from  one  thing  to  another.  He  was  not  apt,  as  he 
termed  it,  * '  to  let  one  man 's  business  step  on  the  heels 
of  another."  Finding  himself,  however,  unable  to 
settle  down,  he  decided  to  go  that  evening  to  the  Hall 
and  get  Lillian's  trunk,  the  keys  of  which  he  had  re- 
tained and  given  into  the  possession  of  the  owner 
that  day.  No  one  was  to  be  told  that  Lillian  lived. 
She  knew  if  Mrs.  Coles  or  anyone  else  wondered  why 
Mr.  Anderson  came  for  her  trunk  they  would  feel 
too  much  in  awe  of  the  dignified  lawyer  to  ask  any 
questions,  knowing  he  had  all  the  business  of  the 
place  in  his  hands.  So  after  a  day's  sojourn  in  the 
place  to  which  she  had  been  so  often  a  visitor  in  other 
years,  Lillian  returned  to  Dr.  Ashley's  and  no  one 
but  the  two  old  lawyers  were  any  the  wiser  for  her 
coming. 


JEN  ROUTE 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

EN  ROUTE. 

Lillian  had  written  to  Mrs.  Chastine,  whom  she 
knew  only  as  Robert 'sand  Helen's  friend,  and  received 
from  her  a  letter  assuring*  her  it  would  give  her  and 
her  family  the  greatest  pleasure  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance and  receive  as  a  friend  the  wife  of  one 
whom  they  had  so  highly  esteemed  and  in  whose 
father's  home  they  had  spent  many  delightful  weeka. 
The  friendship  between  the  two  families  had  begun 
by  Chester  Chastine  and  Robert  Nelson  becoming 
great  friends  at  college.  Chester  was  Mrs.  Chastine 's 
oldest  child  and  only  son.  During  vacation  he  had 
spent  two  weeks  with  Robert  before  going  to  his 
home.  At  his  suggestion,  Helen  had  been  sent  to  the 
same  school  his  sisters  Viola  and  Iva  were  attending. 
It  was  the  only  session  Helen  had  ever  been  able  to  go 
to  boarding  school.  While  there  she  and  the  Chas- 
tine girls  were  classmates  and  room-mates  and  soon 
became  very  dear  friends.  By  special  invitation  Mrs. 
Chastine  and  her  children  had  spent  several  weeks  at 
the  Hall.  This  was  during  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Nelson's 
life.  The  next  winter  the  Nelson  family  had  spent 
some  time  in  New  Orleans,  the  guests  of  Mrs.  Chas- 
tine. Among  many  other  pleasures  they  enjoyed  in 
the  city  were  those  of  the  "Mardi  Gras,"  which  were 
especially  attractive  to  Robert  and  Helen,  who  had 
never  before  witnessed  them.  A  correspondence  had 
been  kept  up  between  the  members  of  the  family  as 
long  as  Robert  lived.  Chester  had  loved  the  fair, 
frail  Helen  and  would  have  made  her  his  wife,  but 
before  saying  anything  to  her  he  had  asked  her 


204 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


father's  permission  to  woo  and  win  lier.  Dr.  Nelson, 
laying  his  hand  tenderly  on  the  young  man's  arm, 
and  looking  kindly  into  his  honest  gray  eyes,  had 
said : 

"My  dear  Chester,  there  is  no  man  living  to  whom 
I  would  more  readily  give  my  delicate  snowdrop,  but 
she  is  too  fragile,  has  too  slight  a  hold  on  life  to  bear 
transplanting  to  any  home  but  the  one  in  which  she 
has  been  so  tenderly  reared.  I  could  trust  her  to  no 
sheltering  arms  but  those  of  her  father,  which  have 
shielded  her  as  much  as  possible  from  every  rude 
shock.  Prom  her  infancy  she  has  been  the  object  of 
my  tenclerest  love  and  most  devoted  care  and  I  feel 
Ave  could  not  live  apart  from  each  other." 

Chester  gave  up  his  hopes,  and  when  a  few  days 
after  her  father  had  told  Helen  of  the  young  man's 
love  for  her  and  what  he  had  told  him,  she  had  sanc- 
tioned it,  and  said,  as  she  looked  up  into  the  face 
gazing  so  lovingly  into  her  own:  4 'My  father  is 
right,  as  he  always  is.  No  man's  love  but  that  of  my 
father  and  brother  shall  ever  crown  my  life,  but  that 
is  amply  sufficient  for  my  happiness." 

Mrs.  Chastine  had  seen  in  a  paper  an  account  of 
the  recovery  of  Robert  Nelson's  body.  It  gave  no  par- 
ticulars, because  an  account  of  his  disappearance  had 
already  been  published,  which,  however,  neither  that 
lady  nor  any  of  her  family  had  seen.  Under  the  im- 
pression the  drowning  was  accidental,  she  had  writ- 
ten a  letter  of  condolence  to  Lillian,  who  had  an- 
swered it,  thinking  Mrs.  Chastine  knewT  all  about  the 
sad  circumstances  attending  her  husband's  death. 
Helen  had  corresponded  with  the  girls  and  had  often 
read  extracts  from  their  letters  aloud.  From  these 
Lillian  had  become  favorably  impressed  with  all  the 
family,  and  now,  in  her  loneliness  and  with  a  desire 


EN  ROUTE 


205 


to  leave  the  scenes  of  so  many  troubles,  and  for  the 
sake  of  greater  security  from  her  enemy,  her  mind 
and  heart  had  turned  to  this  family.  She  loved  them 
already  because  they  had  been  so  much  loved  "by  her 
dear  ones,  and  she  felt  assured  they  would  receive 
her  as  a  friend  for  their  sakes.  She  was  much  touched 
by  Mrs.  Chastine's  letter,  who,  herself  having  lost  a 
devoted  husband,  could  deeply  sympathize  with  the 
young  widow  who  was  more  lonely  and  loveless  than 
herself. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley  would  not  hear  of  her  leaving 
them  before  the  holidays,  so  to  gratify  them  and  the 
children  she  spent  the  Christmas  with  her  kind 
friends  and  went  often  to  the  cabin,  where  she  was 
always  received  with  the  warmest  expressions  of  wel- 
come. Her  gifts  to  the  family  were  many  and  sub- 
stantial.  They  would  not  hear  of  her  paying  them 
anything  for  their  services  to  her  in  her  great  need, 
but  she  compensated  them  in  such  delicate  ways  they 
could  not  refuse  her  generosity.  They  knew  they 
would  hurt  her  by  refusal  of  her  kindness,  and  more 
for  her  sake  than  their  own  accepted  her  bounty. 
When  they  fancied  her  thoughts  were  far  away,  after 
her  sickness,  she  was  studying  their  needs  and  think- 
ing how  to  supply  them.  ?Tis  no  wonder  they  loved 
the  gentle,  sweet  woman  who  testified  her  gratitude 
so  generously  and  so  gracefully,  and  there  was  grief 
in  the  family  when  she  went  away  so  far  from  them. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ashley  had  tried  to  prevail  on  her 
to  make  her  home  with  them,  but  she  could  not  trust 
herself  so  near  to  the  scene  of  her  last  tragic  experi- 
ence. Walter  Brunette  might  return  to  Queen's 
Beach,  and  in  that  unaccountable  way  by  which  he 
learned  everything  about  her,  find  out  her  rescue  from 
death   and   again   subject  her  to  insult,  the  very 


206 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


thought  of  which  unnerved  her.  The  first  of  January 
she  left  for  Atlanta,  where  she  stayed  a  week  or  two 
to  secure  a  companion.  After  several  had  answered  the 
advertisement  she  had  inserted  in  the  leading  papers 
of  that  city,  she  selected  a  young  girl,  an  orphan,  Miss 
Eva  Norris.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  minister,  who 
had  recently  died,  leaving  his  daughter  dependent 
upon  her  own  resources  for  a  livelihood.  For  this 
reason,  and  because  she  was  righly  recommended, 
Lillian  employed  her.  She  had  been  reared  in  a  quiet 
country  town  and  had  never  been  a  hundred  miles 
from  home  before  she  came  to  the  city  in  answer  to 
uillian's  letter,  giving  her  the  position  for  which  she 
had  written.  She  was  quite  a  pretty,  bright,  talk- 
ative girl,  who  considered  herself  most  fortunate  in 
obtaining  just  such  a  position  as  she  desired.  She 
was  extremely  fond  of  novelty  and  was  delighted  at 
the  prospect  of  seeing  more  of  the  world  than  she 
had  ever  dreamed  she  would.  It  was  a  fine  day  in 
January  when  Lillian  and  Eva  boarded  the  train  en 
route  for  New  Orleans,  and  were  soon  whirling  to 
their  destination  as  fast  as  steam,  directed  by 
prudence,  could  carry  them.  As  the  day  advanced 
and  they  approached  nearer  and  nearer  the  tropical 
clime,  Lillian  was  oppresed  by  the  heat,  and,  think- 
ing all  danger  of  recognition  over,  threw  to  one  side 
the  thick  mourning  veil  wThich  had  completely  hidden 
her  features.  As  she  did  this  a  man  sitting  three 
seats  below  her  on  the  other  side  of  the  car  bolted 
suddenly  from  his  reclining  position,  turned  very 
pale,  and  exclaimed,  " Great  heavens!"  below  his 
breath,  but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  those  nearest 
him,  who  stared  uneasily  at  him,  fearing  he  had  be- 
come suddenly  demented.  Their  looks  must  have 
recalled  him  to  himself,  for,  picking  up  the  paper  he 


EN  ROUTE 


207 


had  held  in  his  hand,  but  which  he  had  let  fall  in  his 
excitement,  he  settled  himself  back  to  his  former  care- 
less, listless  posture  and  with  great  composure  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  paper,  as  if  steadily  reading  there 
something  that  interested  him,  leaving  his  fellow  pas- 
sengers to  wonder  what  the  paper  contained  to  excite 
the  man  so.  Two  stations  farther,  the  two  men  who 
had  occupied  the  seat  in  front  of  the  man  above 
alluded  to  got  off,  and  Eva,  who  knew  nothing  of 
what  had  passed,  after  a  word  or  two  to  Lillian,  came 
over  and  took  the  vacant  seat.  Trying  in  vain  to 
hoist  the  window,  the  strange  gentleman,  for  so  he 
seemed,  eagerly  leaned  over  and  raised  it  for  her. 
Thanking  him,  she  said : 

' 1  When  I'm  traveling  I  wish  to  see  all  that's  to  be 
seen. ' ' 

"That's  right,"  was  the  reply.  "So  do  I,  but  I 
often  find  more  to  interest  me  in  the  cars  than  out, 
especially  if  there  are  pretty  ladies  aboard." 

If  Eva  had  been  true  to  her  teaching,  if  she  had 
been  as  wise  as  the  little  flies  we  read  of  in  a  certain 
poem,  she  would  not  have  fallen  into  the  net  the 
spider  was  setting  for  her.  Instead,  she  was  like  the 
silly  flies  another  poem  records,  who  were  caught  by 
flattering  words.  With  a  smile  she  gave  a  hasty 
glance  around  the  car,  and  said: 

"There  are  not  enough  pretty  ones  on  today  to  be 
specially  interesting."  Then  looking  at  Lillian,  who 
was  gazing  out  of  the  window,  but  seemed  lost  in 
reverie,  she  continued: 

"The  lady  I  am  traveling  with  has  beauty  enough 
to  compensate  for  what  the  rest  of  us  may  lack." 

"Who  is  she,  if  I  may  ask?"  was  the  next  question. 

"Mrs.  Devereux,"  Eva  replied  in  a  low  tone. 

"A  French  lady,  I  suppose,  by  her  name?" 


208 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


"Yes;  she  and  her  husband,  too,  I  suppose,  were 
French. ' ' 

"For  whom  does  she  wear  such  heavy  mourning?" 

"For  her  husband,  who  has  recently  died,  and  to 
whom  she  was  much  devoted." 

"She  is  very  beautiful,  isn't  she?"  with  a  glance 
in  the  direction  of  Lillian,  who  was  utterly  ignorant 
that  she  was  the  source  of  conversation. 

"Oh,  yes,  by  far  the  most  beautiful  person  I  ever 
saw.  You  would  think  so,  too,  if  you  could  see  be- 
yond that  horrid  veil  she  wears  so  constantly. ' ' 

"What  is  her  style?  Dark  eyes  and  hair,  I  sup- 
pose ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,"  was  the  enthusiastic  reply;  everybody 
became  enthusiastic  when  describing  Lillian's  beauty. 
"She  has  the  loveliest  dark  eyes  I  ever  saw,  and  the 
prettiest  dark  hair,  with  fair  complexion  and  rosy 
cheeks  and  lips." 

"She  must  be  very  beautiful,"  the  stranger  said, 
with  interest.    "Is  she  a  relative  of  yours?" 

' '  Oh,  no ;  I  am  only  her  companion, ' '  was  the  frank 
answer. 

"And  where  are  you  going?  Excuse  me  if  I  seem 
inquisitive,  but  you  have  excited  my  interest,"  and 
he  gave  a  very  significant  look  into  the  fresh,  pretty 
face  of  the  girl  he  was  addressing. 

She  blushed  a  little  and  answered: 

"To  New  Orleans,  to  be  with  some  friends,  who,  I 
imagine,  also  are  French.  It's  a  strange  name,  Chas- 
tine.    Have  you  ever  heard  it  before?" 

The  stranger  assured  her  he  had  not. 

"You  will  be  in  the  city  during  the  'Mardi  Gras,' 
I  suppose?" 

"I  think  so;  I  heard  Mrs.  Devereux  say  something 
about  that  yesterday. ' ' 


EN  ROUTE 


209 


"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  you  will  be  there  then.  You 
will  be  delighted  if  you  have  never  witnessed  the 
novelties  of  that  occasion."  Then  followed  a  graphic 
description  of  that  festival  on  the  part  of  the 
stranger,  to  which  Eva  listened  absorbed,  forgetting 
in  her  enjoyment  that  she  was  showing  she,  too, 
found  greater  attraction  on  the  inside  than  the  out- 
side of  the  car,  though  they  were  traveling  through 
a  most  lovely  section  of  the  fair  Southland.  When 
the  newsboy  came  his  round,  the  gentleman  bought 
a  noted  magazine  and  placed  it  at  her  disposal.  From 
the  fruit  agent  he  bought  delicious  fruits  and  begged 
her  acceptance.  She  felt  rather  reluctant  to  accept 
these  favors  from  a  mere  stranger,  but  she  argued, 
what  harm  could  there  be  in  accepting  them  when 
he  offered  them  so  kindly,  and  then  he  was  almost  as 
old  as  "papa."  As  she  thought  this,  she  glanced  at 
the  gentleman,  who  was  peeling  an  orange,  and 
seemed  to  be  greatly  interested  in  the  process.  His 
hair,  beard  and  moustache  were  slightly  sprinkled 
with  gray,  and  he  wore  glasses  as  "papa"  did,  but 
truth  compelled  her  to  acknowledge  to  herself  that 
he  didn't  look  very  old  after  all,  especially  when  he 
was  talking  and  was  animated.  Still,  she  received 
his  gifts  and  enjoyed  them,  too.  Lillian  had  glanced 
over  to  her  twice.  At  one  time  she  was  busy  looking 
over  the  magazine,  and  at  the  other  she  was  enjoying 
an  orange,  which  that  lady,  of  course,  thought  she 
had  bought,  but  she  wondered  slightly  why  she  should 
have  bought  fruit  when  they  had  a  supply  in  their 
lunch  basket.  Later  on  the  stranger  had  asked  an 
exchange  of  cards,  saying  he  wished  to  know  to  whom 
he  was  indebted  for  so  delightful  a  conversation.  Eva 
told  him  she  had  but  one  card  with  her,  and  that  wa« 
in  her  grip  on  the  other  seat.    She  had  put  it  there, 


210  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


she  explained,  in  case  she  should  forget  and  leave 
her  grip.  If  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  an 
honest  person,  she  would  get  it  again.  When  she 
proposed  going  for  it,  the  stranger  said : 

"Wait  until  you  are  about  to  get  off,  but  be  sure 
not  to  neglect  it,  as  I  should  wish  to  cherish  it  as  a 
souvenir  of  this  pleasant  occasion,"  and  he  added, 
thoughtfully,  "You  had  better  not  tell  the  lady  of 
our  acquaintance,  as  she  seems  to  shun  observation, 
and  she  might  not  like  to  know  we  had  been  discuss- 
ing her." 

Eva  felt  instinctively  Lillian  would  not  approve  of 
her  freedom  in  discussing  her  and  her  affairs  to  an 
utter  stranger,  so  she  determined  to  keep  it  to  herself, 
and  Lillian  was  ignorant  of  this  little  episode.  On 
the  card  the  stranger  had  given  Eva  was  inscribed 
in  a  bold  hand,  "Judge  E.  A.  Allan,  New  Orleans, 
La." 

"Do  you  live  in  New  Orleans?"  she  asked  eagerly, 
after  reading  the  superscription. 

"I  live  there  when  not  officially  employed  else- 
where. I  hope  we  shall  meet  again  and  renew  our 
acquaintance  under  more  favorable  circumstances. 
We  are  nearing  the  city  now,"  he  said  later.  "Re- 
member my  card." 

Eva  easily  secured  it  without  Lillian's  notice,  and 
gave  it  into  the  stranger's  hand.  It  bore  her  name 
and  the  street  and  number  of  Mrs.  Chastine's  resi- 
dence. The  last  face  she  saw  that  night  at  the  depot 
was  "Judge  Allan's."  He  had  stood  very  near  while 
Mr.  Chastine  put  them  in  the  carriage,  and  Eva  had 
caught  his  smile  as  he  bowed  gracefully  and  was  lost 
in  the  crowd.  That  night  she  stood  before  the  mirror 
and  scanned  her  features  with  more  than  usual  care. 
Was  she  pretty  that  the  stranger,  a  judge,  too,,  so 


EN  ROUTE 


211 


intelligent,  so  unmistakably  a  gentleman,  should  seem 
so  struck  by  her  and  show  such  evident  pleasure  in 
her  society?  Surely  there  must  be  something  about 
her  attractive,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  per- 
haps, Eva  Norris  felt  vain  of  her  beauty  and  at- 
tractiveness, and  went  to  sleep  to  dream  strange 
dreams  in  which  the  face  of  the  handsome  judge 
figured  most  conspicuously. 


212 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 

Lillian  found  Mrs.  Chastine's  family  what  she  had 
expected  them  to  be — pleasant,  refined  and  cultured. 
They  were  the  center  of  what  is  in  its  highest,  truest 
sense  the  best  society,  for  it  was  composed  of  those 
who  were  the  best  people  from  a  Christian  standpoint 
rather  than  those  who  prided  themselves  upon  the 
wealth  or  prestige  acquired  by  former  generations. 
Into  this  select  circle  Lillian  was  at  once  received  as 
a  friend  of  Mrs.  Chastine,  and  very  soon  everybody 
who  wras  fortunate  enough  to  be  that  lady's  friend 
felt  Lillian  to  be  a  charming  acquaintance,  and  gave 
her  a  most  flattering  reception  into  their  homes.  By 
the  ladies  she  soon  began  to  be  styled  ' £  the  lovely  Mrs. 
Devereux,"  and  by  the  gentlemen  "the  beautiful 
snow-queen, 7 '  because  she  was  so  fair,  but  received 
their  attentions  so  coolly.  Indeed,  so  reserved  was 
she  in  her  manners  to  gentlemen  not  even  the  boldest 
dared  show  her  any  attention  he  would  not  have 
shown  the  most  prudent  married  lady  of  his  acquaint- 
ance. While  to  all  she  was  ever  pleasant  and 
courteous,  charming  them  alike  by  her  brilliant  beauty 
and  even  more  by  her  sweet,  pure  womanliness,  yet 
she  made  gentlemen  feel  she  was  not  in  the  matri- 
monial market,  Naturally  fond  of  congenial  society, 
Lillian  entered  into  it  with  increasing  pleasure,  and 
gradually  the  sad  expression  that  for  years  had 
softened  but  not  impaired  her  beauty,  gave  way  to 
its  naturally  oright,  cheerful  expression.  The  large 
eyes  shone  with  a  brilliancy  to  which  they  had  long 


IN  NEW  ORLEANS 


213 


been  a  stranger,  and  sometimes  her  laugh  would  ring 
out  like  a  chime  of  bells,  not  so  merry  as  formerly,  but 
with  a  soft,  low  music  that  everybody  loved  to  listen 
to,  and  her  friends  loved  to  say  something  to  amuse 
her,  that  they  might  hear  it,  for  many  things  amused 
and  interested  her  now. 

Bravely  she  tried  to  put  the  sad  past  behind  her 
and  to  enjoy  the  delightful  present.  Not  that  she 
had  in  any  way  forgotten  her  loved  ones  or  ceased  to 
care  for  them.  Eobert  Nelson  was  as  dear  to  her 
memory  as  he  had  been  to  her  heart  that  night  when 
her  love  for  him  had  found  expression  in  the  words, 
' '  Oh,  Robert !  would  that  I  had  died  for  thee ! ' '  For 
this  reason  she  felt  she  could  never  let  another  utter 
words  of  love  to  her.  More  beautiful  even  than  she 
had  ever  been,  and  with  that  buoyancy  and  vivacity 
which  were  natural  to  her  but  which  misfortune  and 
grief  had  for  so  many  years  repressed,  she  won  the 
admiration  of  all  who  came  under  her  gentle,  gracious 
influence,  but  she  kept  at  a  distance  the  gentlemen 
who  would  have  sought  her  love. 

She  had  hoped  to  board  with  Mrs.  Chastine,  but 
she  found  that  lady's  house  full.  Chester,  his  wife, 
child  and  nurse  lived  there.  Also  Mr.  Scott,  Mrs. 
Chastine 's  nephew,  whose  family  consisted  of  himself, 
wife  and  two  children.  The  girls  entertained  a  good 
deal  of  company  and  Lillian  saw  at  once  it  would  in- 
convenience the  family  to  let  her  have  a  suite  of  rooms 
there,  so  she  did  not  even  express  her  wish  in  that 
regard  to  her  friend,  but  asked  her  advice  and  aid 
in  scuring  pleasant  apartments.  About  a  square 
from  Mrs.  Chastine 's  was  a  quiet  but  most  excellent 
hotel,  first-class  in  every  respect.  Situated  in  the 
residental  part  of  the  city,  it  was  free  from  the  noise 
and  bustle  usually  attendant  upon  a  hotel  more  con- 


314 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


venient  to  the  traveling  public.  The  guests  were 
mostly  those  who  boarded  by  the  month,  and  she  was 
fortunate  enough  to  secure  a  most  desirable  suite  of 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  that  had  been  vacated  the 
day  before.  This  arrangement  made  it  exceedingly 
pleasant,  as  Lillian  could  enjoy  the  freedom  of  Mrs, 
Chastine's  home  and  yet  not  feel  that  she  was  intrud- 
ing upon  the  privacy  of  the  home-circle.  The  pro- 
prietor of  the  hotel  was  a  personal  friend  of  the 
Chastines,  and  this  interested  him  in  Lillian,  who 
received  every  attention  that  could  add  to  her 
pleasure  and  comfort.  Eva  Norris,  as  her  companion, 
came  in  for  her  share  of  consideration  and  was  de- 
lighted with  her  life  in  the  city,  as  we  may  judge  by 
some  extracts  from  a  letter  written  after  several 
months'  sojourn.    She  began  : 

Dear  Lidie  :  I  promised  to  write  to  you  real  soon, 
and  intended  to  keep  that  promise,  but  to  tell  the 
plain  truth,  I  have  been  having  such  a  lovely  time  I 
haven't  had  an  opportunity  to  spare,  even  to  you,  my 
dearest  chum.  Well,  I  can't  describe  it  better  than 
to  say  I'm  just  having  a  grand  time,  living  in  a  grand 
city,  in  grand  style,  at  a  grand  hotel,  and,  grandest 
of  all  is  Mrs.  Devereux  herself.  Lidie,  she  is  the  very 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  best  lady  I  ever  saw.  She  is 
so  beautiful  all  the  ladies  love  her  dearly  and  all  the 
gentlemen  worship  her  at  a  distance,  just  like  she  was 
a  bright  star  too  far  above  their  reach  for  any  of 
them  ever  to  hope  to  win.  When  we  go  to  the  opera 
or  a  concert  or  any  place  where  there  is  a  great  crowd, 
the  people  look  at  her  as  if  amazed  by  her  beauty,  and 
the  gentlemen  stare  at  her  through  their  glasses,  and 
she  sits  there  in  the  box  as  calm  and  quiet  as  possible, 
and  I  don't  believe  even  notices  it  or  cares  for  it  if 
•he  does  notice.    That's  the  most  wonderful  thing 


IN  NEW  ORLEANS 


215 


about  her  beauty,  she  doesn't  seem  to  know  she  has 
any,  though  other  people  just  rave  over  it.  Then,  she 
is  so  good,  too.  After  I  became  her  companion,  one 
morning  she  asked  me  all  about  my  old  home,  about 
papa  and  mamma,  and,  when  I  had  finished,  she  put 
her  hand  on  my  head  and  said : 

"I  hope,  Eva,  you  will  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
your  sainted  parents,  and,  like  them,  live  a  noble,  use- 
ful Christian  life. ' '  I  just  went  to  crying  like  a  silly 
child  when  she  said  that,  and  she  soothed  me  just  as 
if  I  had  been  a  little  child.  That's  the  only  time  I 
have  cried  since  I  have  been  here,  except  at  the  opera 
one  night.  We  don't  sit  with  the  other  folks,  but 
in  a  box,  as  they  call  it,  with  curtains  around  it,  so 
if  you  want  to  you  can  pull  them  and  you  can  see 
everything  on  the  stage  and  nobody  can  see  you. 
Several  of  Mrs.  Devereux's  friends  have  private  boxes 
and  invite  her  to  occupy  them,  and  as  her  companion 
I  go,  too.  You  see,  in  this  way,  by  clinging  to  Mrs. 
Devereux's  dainty  garments  I  can  float  on  the  highest 
waves  of  popularity.  Well,  one  night  at  the  opera, 
a  beautiful  lady,  dressed  very  fine  in  cream  silk, 
trimmed  in  lace,  with  her  dress  made  low-neck  and 
short  sleeves,  showing  her  pretty  arms  and  neck 
shining  with  diamonds,  came  out  and  sang,  oh,  so 
sweetly  and  sadly,  about  a  man  she  loved,  but  he 
loved  another  girl,  and  I  couldn't  help  crying  to  save 
my  life.  The  tears  fell  down  on  my  dress  and  I 
wouldn't  wipe  them  away  for  fear  some  one  would  see 
me.  I  just  thought  how  miserable  I  would  be  if  I 
should  love  somebody  and  then  found  out  he  loved 
some  one  else.  Well,  I  was  telling  you  about  Mrs. 
Devereux,  how  good  she  is,  looking  around  to  do  all 
the  good  she  can  to  everybody,  rich  and  poor,  and, 


216 


LILLIAN  DeV&RE 


strangely  enough,  she  seems  to  enjoy  doing  a  kindness 
to  poor  people  more  than  to  rich  people. 

Mrs.  Chastine,  that's  one  of  her  best  friends,  told 
a  lady  who  was  talking  about  her  once  that  her  heart 
was  in  her  husband's  grave.  I  thought  to  myself  all 
her  heart  wasn't  there,  for  she  had  more  heart  for 
other  people  than  anybody  I  know.  But  I  can't  tell 
all  about  my  employer,  sweet  and  good  as  she  is,  for 
if  I  did  I'd  use  all  my  paper  and  then  fail  to  give 
you  any  idea  of  her  beauty  or  goodness,  so  I  will  stop 
and  tell  you  about  the  Mardi  Gras. 

Then  followed  a  description  of  that  wonderful 
festival,  which  it  took  all  the  enthusiastic  adjectives 
in  Eva's  vocabulary  to  describe.  Then  she  asked 
after  and  sent  messages  of  love  to  several  friends,  and 
closed  her  letter  by  begging  a  speedy  reply,  and  with 
many  assurances  of  love.  On  a  separate  sheet  of 
paper  was  a  P.  S.,  which  ran  as  follows : 

"Now,  dear  Lidie,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  little 
secret,  which  you  must  promise  me  in  your  next  letter 
you  won't  tell  anybody.  I  used  to  tell  you  all  my 
secrets  and  I  can  trust  you  now.  Well,  my  secret  is 
this:  Coming  down  here  on  the  train  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  judge,  a  real  live  judge,  who  paid 
me  great  attention.  He  bought  me  a  magazine  and 
some  delicious  fruit  and  paid  me  the  nicest  and  most 
delicate  compliments.  He  told  me  he  wasn't  married 
and  had  never  been.  He  asked  me  for  my  card  with 
my  name  on  it  and  gave  me  his.  On  his  was,  '  Judge 
E.  A.  Allan,  New  Orleans,  La.'  He  lives  here  and 
said  he  hoped  we  would  meet  again.  I  have  looked 
for  him  in  every  crowd  and  everywhere  I  have  been 
hoping  to  see  him,  but  in  vain.  Now,  Lidie,  we  fell 
in  love  with  each  other  at  first  sight,  and  that's  the 
best,  truest  kind  of  love,  you  know.    I  believe  I  shall 


W  NEW  ORLEANS 


m 


see  him  again.  Oh,  Lidie,  he  is  so  handsome,  so  intel- 
ligent and  dresses  so  fine — even  wears  a  beaver,  which 
makes  him  so  distinguished  looking.  Now,  don't  tell 
Claude  Barkley,  because  I  promised  to  write  to  him 
as  soon  as  I  got  here  and  give  him  my  address,  but  I 
haven't  done  it.  I  will  give  him  over  to  you  and  I'll 
take  'the  judge'  when  I  find  him." 


218 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

ANOTHER  PICNIC. 

As  the  summer  approached  it  began  to  be  discussed 
by  the  Chastine  family  where  they  should  spend  that 
season.  They  always  went  to  some  watering  place 
or  seaside  resort  to  escape  the  excessive  heat.  Lillian 
smiled  when  they  spoke  of  summer,  for  to  her,  ac* 
customed  to  a  more  northerly  clime,  where  the  frost- 
king  wields  his  potent  sway  for  five  or  six  months  of 
the  year,  the  winter  and  spring  had  been  one  delight- 
ful summer.  Still,  as  she  and  Eva  and  a  few  very 
intimate  friends  of  the  family  were  to  be  included  in 
the  party,  she  listened  with  some  interest  for  the 
finale  of  the  discussion.  Had  she  dared,  she  would 
gladly  have  opened  to  her  friends  the  doors  of  the 
Hall  and  extended  to  them  the  hospitality  for  which 
it  had  been  formerly  so  noted,  but  she  was  afraid  to 
go  so  near  Walter  Brunette's  home,  with  which  she 
felt  confident  he  held  intercourse,  perhaps  visited  in 
disguise.  She  felt  that  her  only  safety  lay  in  keep- 
ing him  in  ignorance  of  her  existence.  How  thankful 
she  was  for  the  return  of  dark  hair,  which  would  pre- 
vent him  from  recognizing  her  if  by  any  chance  she 
should  encounter  him!  To  Mrs.  Chastine  she  had 
told  all  the  details  of  her  story  and  it  had  aroused  in 
that  good  woman  a  storm  of  righteous  indignation 
against  the  man  who  had  caused  her  lovely  friend  so 
much  distress.  Mrs.  Chastine  had  given  to  the  mem- 
bers of  her  own  family  circle  the  outlines  of  Lillian's 
story,  which  they  thought  exceedingly  romantic  and 
which  elicited  from  them  the  deepest  sympathy  for 


ANOTHER  PICNIC 


219 


the  beautiful  woman  who  had  suffered  so  much  and 
who  could  yet  be  so  attractive,  so  pleasant,  so  kind  in 
every  way  to  others.  Beyond  this,  nothing  was  known 
of  Lillian,  save  that  she  was  a  dear  friend  of  the 
Chastine  family,  whose  husband  Mrs.  Chastine  had 
known  and  highly  respected  for  his  many  fine  qual- 
ities. The  few  who  remembered  the  Nelson  family  as 
guests  of  Mrs.  Chastine  did  not,  of  course,  connect 
that  family  with  Lillian.  When  she  told  Mrs.  Chas- 
tine she  would  like  to  invite  her  family  and  friends 
to  the  Hall,  that  lady  exclaimed  at  once : 

4  4  My  dear  Mrs.  Devereux,  while  we  would  all  be 
grateful  for  your  invitation  and  would  enjoy  nothing 
so  much  if  that  terrible  man  who  has  for  so  many 
years  been  the  bane  of  your  life  occupied  the  felon's 
grave  he  deserves,  yet  he  is  still  at  large,  and  I  would 
have  you,  on  no  account,  subject  yourself  again  to 
his  cruel  persecution.  No,  no,  my  dear,  you  must  go 
with  us  and  keep  away  from  all  chances  of  ever  seeing 
him  again" — advice  Lillian  was  very  willing  to  take. 
It  was  finally  agreed  they  should  go  to  a  delight- 
ful retreat  in  the"  mountains  of  Virginia,  and  the 
time  set  for  their  departure  was  three  weeks  hence. 

A  few  days  after  this  was  agreed  upon  there  was 
a  steamboat  excursion  on  Lake  Pontchartrain,  upon 
which  Lillian  and  Eva  went  with  some  friends.  The 
Chastine  family  had  promised  themselves  great 
pleasure  from  the  occasion,  but  the  night  before  Mr. 
Scott  had  been  taken  suddenly  and  critically  ill,  and, 
of  course,  none  of  that  family  could  go.  It  was  a 
beautiful  bright  day  and  every  arrangement  had  been 
made  for  the  pleasure  and  entertainment  of  the  party. 
There  was  a  fine  band  on  board,  which  discoursed 
exhilarating  music.  The  young  people  were  full  of 
innocent  mirth.    The  older  people  grew  young  again 


220 


LILLIAN  DkVEHE 


in  the  enjoyment  of  the  more  youthful  ones  and  in 
the  pleasure  of  so  delightful  an  occasion.  Lillian 
mingled  with  her  friends  on  the  fore-deck  for  awhile, 
then  slipped  away  to  the  hind-deck,  where  only  a  few 
persons  were  scattered  here  and  there.  Seating  her- 
self apart  from  the  rest,  she  gave  herself  up  to  the 
quiet  enjoyment  of  the  scene,  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  a  pair  of  very  bright  eyes  were  gazing  upon  her 
with  a  look  of  curious  interest  and  admiration,  a  look 
of  such  deep  perplexity  it  brought  a  frown  upon  the 
face.  The  owner  of  the  eyes  was  in  the  salon,  near 
the  door,  and  appeared  to  have  sought  that  position 
to  see  and  not  be  seen.  Eva,  missing  Lillian  after 
awhile,  had  found  her  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts, 
so  she  had  seated  herself  on  the  opposite  side  and 
given  herself  up  to  a  reverie.  So  deeply  was  she 
engrossed  in  her  thoughts,  she  did  not  notice  the 
approach  of  a  gentleman  until  he  was  very  near  her. 
As  she  turned  her  head  in  his  direction  he  held  out  his 
hand  with  great  frankness,  and  said  in  a  low,  earnest 
tone : 

* '  I  cannot  express  to  you  my  great  pleasure  in  meet- 
ing you  again.  I  have  so  much  desired  to  see  my 
little  friend  once  more.  Tell  me  if  the  pleasure  is 
mutual?"  and  as  he  looked  into  the  bright,  smiling 
face,  suffused  in  blushes,  he  knew  his  question  was 
answered  ere  she  said,  1 '  Certainly,  Judge  Allan,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  again. ' ' 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  take  this  seat  by  you  and 
renew  our  acquaintance?" 

For  a  reply  she  moved  a  chair  near  her,  upon  which 
he  sat  with  his  back  to  everybody,  but  close  by  her 
side,  asking  her  questions  of  how  her  time  had  passed 
in  the  city,  and  she,  with  the  trustfulness  of  a  child, 
was  telling  him  all  she  had  enjoyed,  to  which  he 


ANOTHER  PICNIC 


221 


listened  with  eager  attention.  She  talked  to  this 
stranger  whom  she  had  known  but  a  few  hours  with 
the  freedom  and  familiarity  she  should  have  accorded 
to  one  she  had  known  as  many  years.  After  a  slight 
pause,  he  said: 

"I  am  getting  very  tired  of  the  noise  and  bustle 
of  my  hotel  and  am  seeking  a  quieter  one.  Do  you 
think  I  could  secure  rooms  in  the  one  you  describe 
as  so  excellent?'' 

' i Oh,  yes,"  Eva  answered;  "I  do  not  doubt  you 
can.  Some  gentlemen  on  the  floor  above  us  moved 
out  yesterday.  If  you  apply  at  once  I  think  you  can 
get  a  room  there. ' ' 

She  did  not  know  how  much  interest  she  was  show- 
ing in  this  stranger's  plans.    He  smiled  as  he  said: 

"I  shall  apply  tomorrow  morning,  and  then  will 
you  tell  everybody  I  am  an  old  friend  of  yours,  and 
thus  give  me  the  right  to  pay  you  the  attentions  I 
desire  and  do  you  all  the  kindness  I  wish,  without  so 
much  comment  from  disinterested  but  inquisitive 
parties?" 

He  asked  this  in  a  very  low,  soft,  pleading  voice, 
as  if  the  answer  meant  very  much  for  him.  His  eyes 
were  bent  lovingly  upon  her.  What  could  she  say? 
Could  she  deceive  everybody  for  the  sake  of  this 
stranger,  of  whom  she  knew  nothing?  Poor  little 
unsophisticated  girl!  There  was  no  one  to  whisper 
there  was  danger  in  such  deceit.  Seeing  her  hesitate, 
he  said  even  more  softly,  more  pleadingly: 

"I  am  old,  so  old  I  arn  gray.  There  will  be  no 
harm  in  saying  that  and  I  will  try  to  add  very  much 
to  your  pleasure.  In  return  I  only  ask  you  to  keep 
our  little  secret  a  short  while  from  everybody.  Will 
you  promise?" 

Looking  up  into  the  eyes  that  looked  so  tenderly 


222 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


into  hers,  she  gave  the  promise,  and  when  he  thanked 
her  so  nicely  and  began  to  call  her  attention  to  th# 
scenery,  and  say  something  so  very  nice  and  interest- 
ing about  every  object  that  came  in  view,  she  forgot 
everything  save  that  she  was  very  happy.  Once 
Lillian,  when  joined  by  some  friends,  had  asked  about 
Eva,  and  when  they  had  pointed  to  her  on  the  other 
side  of  the  deck  with  a  gentleman,  she,  very  naturally 
supposing  it  was  some  gentleman  of  her  acquaintance, 
fell  into  conversation,  which  continued  until  dinner 
was  announced ;  then  Eva  joined  her.  Lillian  thought 
Eva  had  never  been  so  bright  and  cheerful  as  she  was 
that  evening.  The  stranger  did  not  appear  again, 
but  Eva  told  Lillian  that  night  she  had  never  enjoyed 
a  picnic  more. 

"The  scenery  upon  the  water  is  so  beautiful, "  she 
said,  as  she  recalled  Judge  Allan's  fine  descriptive 
powers,  which  had  made  even  commonplace  objects 
appear  intensely  interesting.  Oh,  the  glamour  love 
throws  over  us ! 

The  next  morning  Judge  Allan  applied  for  board 
at  the  hotel  and  secured  the  only  vacant  room — was 
just  ten  minutes  ahead  of  another  applicant.  That 
evening  he  was  introduced  to  Lillian  as  an  old  friend 
by  Eva,  and  as  such  received  a  more  kindly  greeting 
than  that  lady  usually  accorded  to  gentlemen,  and  as 
such,  too,  obtained  permission  to  occupy  the  only 
vacant  chair  at  that  lady's  table,  a  privilege  for  which 
he  was  envied  by  many  of  the  gentleman  boarders. 
As  a  friend  of  Eva's,  too,  she  regarded  the  judge  more 
closely  than  she  usually  did  strangers.  He  was  a 
tall,  fine-looking  gentleman,  with  a  broad  intellectual 
brow,  apparently  between  forty  and  forty-five  years 
of  age,  judging  from  his  gray  hair  and  beard.  He 
had  polished  manners  and  there  was  about  him  a  quiet 


ANOTHER  PICNIC 


228 


dignity  becoming  his  age  and  profession,  and  yet  he 
showed  himself  keenly  appreciative  of  humor,  for 
when  Mr.  Beckwith,  who  was  the  humorist  of  the 
table,  related  some  amusing  anecdote,  Lillian  noticed 
a  shy  twinkle  in  the  eyes  shining  so  brightly  under 
gold-rimmed  glasses  and  a  smile  parted  the  lips, 
shaded  by  the  gray  moustache,  disclosing  a  set  of 
teeth  so  white,  even  and  perfect  she  thought  they  must 
be  false  or  remarkably  fine  for  a  person  of  his  age. 

He  did  not  talk  much  that  first  night,  but  what  he 
did  say  Avas  well  expressed  and  to  the  point.  Alto- 
gether she  was  prepossessed  with  Eva's  friend,  and 
that  night  after  questioning  her  about  him  and  re- 
ceiving satisfactory  and  apparently  very  frank  an- 
swers to  her  questions,  she  felt  quite  assured  he  was 
a  true  gentleman,  and  expressed  herself  to  Eva  as 
glad  she  had  so  nice  and  so  intelligent  a  friend  to 
add  to  her  pleasure,  little  dreaming  the  friend  she  was 
commending  was  a  man  of  whom  the  girl  knew  less 
than  she  did  of  any  gentleman  10  whom  she  had  been 
introduced.  She  -at  least  knew  their  reputation;  of 
Judge  Allan  she  knew  absolutely  nothing  save  what  he 
appeared.  Lillian  was  not  suspicious  by  nature,  and 
even  if  she  had  been,  she  had  no  right  to  question  the 
truthfulness  of  this  girl  who  had  come  to  her  so  highly 
recommended  and  who  gave  evidence  of  having  been 
carefully  reared.  She  felt  it  her  duty  to  guard  her 
as  she  would  have  done  a  younger  sister,  and,  under 
the  same  circumstances,  she  would  doubtless  have  ap- 
proved the  choice  of  a  sister  as  she  did  Eva's. 

If  anyone  had  accused  Eva  of  being  untruthful  or 
dishonorable,  she  would  have  most  indignantly  re- 
sented the  accusation.  How  strong  and  subtle  is  the 
influence  of  some  natures  upon  others,  causing  them 
to  believe  wrong  is  right  and  right  is  wrong !  Lillian 


224 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


would  not  have  slept  so  soundly  and  sweetly  that 
night  had  she  known  how  restlessly  Eva  was  tossing 
on  her  bed  in  the  next  room.  One  question  Lillian 
had  asked  her  had  greatly  disquieted  her, 

6iI  suppose  you  are  sure  your  father  would  sanc- 
tion your  friendship  with  this  gentleman  VJ 

•'Yes,  ma'am/'  had  been  unhesitatingly  answered; 
but  Eva  was  not  able  to  answer  it  so  easily  to  her 
own  satisfaction.  Would  her  father,  who  was  the 
very  soul  of  truth  and  honor,  sanction  her  friendship 
with  this  man  who  had  given  her  her  first  lesson  in 
deceit?  Finally  she  lulled  herself  to  sleep  with  the 
thought  that  surely  papa  wrould  be  pleased  to  have 
her  secure  the  friendship  of  a  gentleman  so  intelli- 
gent, so  handsome  and  so  distinguished.  In  the  room 
directly  above  the  one  in  which  Eva  was  trying  so 
hard  to  go  to  sleep  sat  a  gentleman,  ensconsed  in  an 
easy  chair,  his  feet  on  the  window-casement,  gazing  • 
out  of  the  window  into  vacancy.  His  fine  Havana 
cigar  was  the  only  company  he  had,  but  it  seemed 
enough  to  satisfy  him,  as  he  drew  whiff  after  whiff, 
causing  its  delightful  fragrance  to  fill  the  room.  Very 
quiet,  silent,  almost  motionless,  the  smoker  sat,  busy 
with  his  thoughts — so  busy,  so  self -forgetful  nothing 
roused  him,  not  even  the  striking  of  the  midnight 
sto>kes.  Sometimes  he  would  hold  his  cigar  for  a 
minute  or  two  between  his  thumb  and  first  finger  and 
mutter  the  words : 

" Strange,  passing  strange!" 


AN  EVENING  DRIVE 


225 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

AN  EVENING  DRIVE. 

During  the  weeks  that  intervened  before  their  de- 
parture for  the  mountains,  Judge  Allan  paid  Eva  the 
kindest  attentions.  The  men  at  the  hotel  began  to 
banter  him  about  his  fondness  for  the  girl,  but  he 
replied,  smiling  in  his  quiet,  dignified  way,  '  *  She  is  a 
sweet  little  friend  of  mine  and  I  want  to  give  her  a 
good  time, ' '  in  which  he  succeeded,  certainly,  for  Eva 
had  never  enjoyed  herself  so  much.  To  Lillian  he 
was  exceedingly  courteous,  but  he  did  not  try  to  in- 
trude himself  into  her  society  or  insinuate  himself  into 
her  good  graces  in  any  unpleasant  way,  for  which  she 
respected  him.  Indeed,  he  seemed  rather  to  avoid 
her,  but  she  caught  him  looking  at  her  sometimes  with 
an  expression  that  was  at  once  curious  and  admiring — 
an  expression  that  somehow  made  her  feel  uncom- 
fortable, and  yet  she  couldn't  have  told  why.  At  last 
the  party  set  out  for  their  summer  retreat,  which  they 
found  very  pleasant;  indeed,  it  was  everything  they 
could  have  desired  for  the  quiet  and  comfort  they 
sought.  They  all  improved  under  the  beneficial  effect 
of  pure  mountain  air  and  mineral  water,  and  did 
ample  justice  to  the  appetizing  viands  set  before  them. 
Lillian  had  never  visited  the  mountains  before,  and 
she  was  delighted  with  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery 
and  all  the  pleasures  and  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  a  sojourn  there.  To  Eva  it  was  a  novel  and 
most  pleasurable  experience.  Judge  Allan  had  ex- 
tracted from  her  a  promise  to  write  to  him  often  and 
long  letters,  which  she  carried  out  fully. 

Every  week  there  went  to  the  Judge  a  long  letter, 


226 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


plentifully  interspersed  with  Lillian  and  her  affairs, 
as  indeed  all  of  Eva's  letters  were.  She  told  him  of 
how  Lillian  was  getting  every  day  more  beautiful,  of 
how  much  she  was  admired,  of  how  indifferent  she 
remained  to  admiration.  Still,  a  fine-looking  gentle- 
man, a  millionaire,  was  deeply  in  love  with  her  and 
would  use  every  effort  to  induce  her  to  become  the 
mistress  of  his  palatial  home  and  a  mother  to  his  two 
beautiful  little  children. 

"But  I  don't  think  she  will  marry  him,"  Eva  com- 
mented. "She  seems  annoyed  by  his  attentions  and 
refuses  them  when  she  can  do  so  without  real  rude- 
ness. I  hope  she  won't  marry  him,  for  then  I  would 
be  thrown  out  of  my  position  and  be  so  friendless." 

Very  pleasantly  the  months  passed,  and  October 
came,  the  time  for  their  return  to  the  city.  The 
millionaire  followed  Lillian  back,  learned  his  fate  and 
returned  to  his  home,  a  sadder  man  for  having  loved 
and  lost.  Judge  Allan  met  the  party  at  the  depot, 
and  in  his  quiet,  independent  way  expressed  his 
pleasure  at  their  return.  He  took  Eva  under  his 
special  care,  and  she  seemed  very  glad  to  see  her  old 
friend  again.  He  gave  her  every  pleasure  in  his 
power,  and  yet  his  attentions  were  not  lover-like; 
there  was  nothing  exclusive  in  them  that  he  could  not 
divide  with  others.  If  there  were  presents  of  delicious 
fruits  or  rare  flowers,  Lillian's  name  was  always  in- 
cluded in  the  note  accompanying  them.  If  a  drive 
was  to  be  given,  it  was  in  a  carriage,  and  Lillian  or 
the  Chastine  girls  were  invited  to  go.  The  Judge 
seemed  as  prudent  and  as  anxious  to  shield  the  young 
girl's  good  name  as  Lillian  herself.  One  evening  in 
early  November  an  invitation  came  from  Judge  Allan 
to  Eva  and  Lillian  to  go  for  a  drive,  saying  Iva  Chas- 
tine had  consented  to  go.    Lillian  had  declined  several 


JLN  evening  drive 


227 


times  and  now,  at  Eva's  urgent  desire,  agreed  to  ac- 
cept a  place  with  the  others. 

It  was  superb  weather.  The  day  was  gloriously- 
bright,  the  air  soft  and  balmy.  The  drive  was  to 
some  of  the  most  beautiful  and  interesting  spots  for 
which  the  city  is  famed.  Judge  Allan  had  never 
exerted  himself  to  entertain  on  previous  occasions. 
The  conversation  had  been  general,  all  the  parties 
contributing  equally  to  the  pleasure  of  the  others. 
On  this  particular  evening,  he  began,  in  his  quiet  but 
most  impressive  manner,  to  describe  the  different  ob- 
jects to  which  he  called  attention.  Sometimes  there 
were  histories  or  legends  connected  with  them,  which 
he  related  in  the  choicest  language  and  the  most  elo- 
quent manner.  His  listeners  were  intensely  inter- 
ested and  impressed  by  his  brilliant  attainments  and 
fine  descriptive  powers.  All  felt  the  influence  of  that 
rare  social  magnetism  which  sometimes  draws  you  to 
a  person  instinctively.  Once  when  Eva  remarked 
upon  his  familiarity  with  every  place  they  visited,  the 
Judge  said,  smilingly: 

"I  spent  several  years  here  as  a  boy,  and,  being  a 
very  active,  inquisitive  specimen,  there  was  nothing 
worth  finding  out  that  I  did  not  discover,  and  there 
was  nothing  worth  knowing  about  interesting  places 
that  I  did  not  learn.  I  have  always  been  especially 
fond  of  legends  and  strange,  weird  stories  have  a 
peculiar  fascination  for  me. ' ' 

On  their  return  they  passed  a  baseball  ground  on 
which  two  champion  clubs  were  engaged  in  a  contest. 
Judge  Allan  ordered  the  driver  to  stop,  that  they 
might  witness  the  playing.  He  and  Iva  understood 
the  game  and  were  soon  greatly  interested  in  it. 
Lillian  and  Eva  enjoyed  the  evident  enthusiasm  of  so 
many  people  for  the  sport.    As  the  carriage  contain- 


228 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


ing  our  party  drove  near  the  grounds,  the  attention 
of  a  young  gentleman  who  had  been  looking  listlessly 
around  at  the  crowd  was  at  once  attracted  and  he 
seemed  unable  to  withdraw  his  gaze  from  the  spot. 
Leaning  against  a  post,  which  screened  him  from  ob- 
servation, he  looked  as  if  entirely  unconscious  of  his 
surroundings.  He  seemed  not  to  care  for  the  cheers 
of  the  multitude,  the  splendid  feats  of  the  players,  the 
presence  of  pretty  young  ladies,  who  clapped  their 
hands  in  applause  at  a  good  play.  He  was  startled 
from  his  abstraction  by  a  slap  upon  the  shoulder  and 
a  familiar  voice  exclaimed : 

' '  Gerry,  what  are  you  dreaming  about  ?  You  have 
been  gazing  at  that  carriage  five  minutes  without 
winking  your  eye.    What  is  it,  old  fellow?" 

6 1  Who  is  that  lady,  Dick?" 

1 6  That  lady,  indeed !  How  can  I  know  who  you  are 
talking  about  when  there  are  at  least  a  hundred  ladies 
in  sight?" 

"Oh,  the  one  in  the  carriage?"  the  other  said,  im- 
patiently, still  looking  in  that  direction  as  if  afraid 
to  lose  sight  ef  it. 

6  c  The  one  in  the  carriage,  you  simpleton,  when  there 
are  three  ladies,  all  pretty,  in  the  carriage." 

6  6  Of  course,  I  mean  the  one  that  is  so  beautiful  she 
glorifies  everything  around  her,"  was  the  reply. 

"It  depends  upon  whom  you  ask  that  question.  If 
you  ask  the  Judge  who  sits  by  Miss  Eva  Norris,  he 
would  doubtless  say  she  is  the  lady  to  whom  your 
question  pertains." 

1  1  Oh,  goosey,  not  the  lady  sitting  by  the  man,  but 
the  one  sitting  opposite  him?" 

"Oh,  now  you  have  come  to  something  definite,  I 
can  answer  you.  That  is  '  The  beautiful  snow-queen. '  ' ' 


AN  EVENING  DRIVE  229 


"Who?"  the  stranger  asked  in  surprise.  "Surely 
that  is  not  her  name  ? ' ' 

"Well,  as  you  seem  so  crazy  to  know,  it  is  Mrs. 
Devereux,  a  young  widow  who  takes  everybody's  heart 
by  storm  and  reigns  over  their  affections  right  royally, 
but  who  is  as  cold  as  snow  to  her  devoted  subjects.' ' 

"She  doesn't  seem  so  cold,"  was  the  rejoinder,  as 
his  gaze  lingered  on  the  vision  of  loveliness  that  had 
so  enchanted  him. 

"Doesn't  seem  cold!  You  look  out  upon  the  pure 
white  snow,  so  beautiful  you  are  delighted,  and  it 
doesn't  seem  cold,  but  if  you  feel  it,  you  will  find  out 
it  has  that  quality.  So  with  the  lovely  Mrs.  Devereux. 
If  you  admire  her  at  a  distance,  don't  show  the  ad- 
miration you  feel  for  her,  she  is  very  fair,  friendly 
and  gracious;  but  you  mustn't  approach  too  near  or 
you'll  feel  the  chilling  effect  upon  your  heart,  as  so 
many  others  have  done." 

"Oh,  Dick,  hush  your  palaver  and  foolishness  and 
tell  me  who  the  lady  is,  where  she  lives  and  all  about 
her.    I'm  in  earnest." 

"Well,  she  boards  at  my  hotel.  I  have  the  great 
honor  of  sitting  at  the  table  with  her,  and  sometimes 
even  of  provoking  a  smile  from  her  majesty.  I  act 
the  fool  to  amuse  her  while  at  her  meals  and  feel 
amply  repaid  if  I  can  say  something  to  bring  a  laugh 
to  those  lovely  lips.  I  confess  I  am  her  abject  slave, 
and  have  been  so  since  the  first  moment  I  saw  her; 
but  I  have  to  worship  afar  off." 

"Dick,  introduce  me,  please.  I  just  must  meet 
her,"  urged  his  friend. 

"Wouldn't  dare  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  was  the 
nonchalant  answer. 

"Come  now,  Dick.  You  and  I  are  old  friends. 
Help  me  out.    Get  me  a  place  at  your  hotel  and  a 


2&)  LILLIAN  DeVERE 

place  at  the  table  and  I  will  be  yours  for  life.  Now. 
won't  you,  Dick?  I  am  just  completely  struck.  I 
never  loved  but  one  lady  in  my  life.  She  is  dead  and 
this  one  is  just  like  her — so  much  so  I  could  swear  to 
her  identity  if  I  didn't  know  she  was  sleeping  in  her 
grave."  By  this  time  the  carriage  had  disappeared 
and  the  two  friends  were  left  in  earnest  conversation. 
The  last  words  of  Dick  Beckwith  as  they  parted  at 
the  street  corner  that  evening  were : 

"I'll  do  my  best  for  you,  Gerry,  and  let  you  know. 
But  don't  take  it  too  much  to  heart  if  I  don't  succeed. 
We  are  full,  as  I  told  you,  but  maybe  I  can  crowd 
you  in  with  me.  Come  tomorrow  morning,  anyway, ' ' 
and  Dick  was  on  his  way  to  the  hotel,  whistling  softly 
"Auld  lang  Syne." 

He  was  the  nephew  of  the  proprietor  and  rumor 
said  was  in  love  with  Iva  Chastine.  He  was  a  frank, 
genial,  jovial  young  man,  seeming  to  care  for  nothing 
but  fun  and  frolic;  but  those  who  knew  him  best 
knewT  that  beneath  that  gay  exterior  he  carried  a 
warm,  kind  heart,  ever  ready  to  do  a  favor  for  anyone 
he  could.  Mr.  Beckwith  loved  him  as  if  he  had  been 
his  own  son,  and  there  was  no  young  man  more  pop- 
ular with  old  and  young  thaxi  jolly  Dick  Beckwith. 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  281 
CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE. 

The  evening  after  the  drive  Lillian  and  Eva  spent 
at  Mrs.  Chastine's.  After  tea,  Mrs.  Chester  Chastine 
took  Lillian  to  the  conservatory  to  show  her  the  bloom 
of  some  rare  exotics,  in  the  growth  of  which  she  was 
greatly  interested.  The  flowers  were  so  beautiful  and 
fragrant  they  lingered  among  them,  admiring  the 
peculiar  beauty  of  each,  until  voices  in  the  adjoining 
room  attracted  their  attention.  They  listened  and 
Mrs.  Chester  whispered : 

"It  is  Dick  Beckwith  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Gerald) 
Lemoine. ' ' 

"Gerald  Lemoine!"  Lillian  repeated  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  peculiar  name,  but  it's  pretty,  I  think. 
Dick  came  in  a  few  minutes  this  morning  to  ask  the 
girls'  permission  to  bring  his  friend,  who  has  just 
returned  from  abroad  somewhere,  to  take  possession 
of  quite  a  snug  little  fortune  left  him  by  a  distant 
relative.  He  used  to  live  here  when  a  boy,  and  he 
and  Dick  went  to  school  together  and  were  quite 
chums,  it  seems.  Dick  says  he  was  a  great  student 
and  very  bright.  Let's  see  how  he  looks.  We  can 
easily  see  through  the  glass  doors  without  being 
seen, ' '  and  she  stepped  softly  to  the  door,  not  having 
noticed  the  strange  look  that  had  crept  into  Lillian's 
face. 

Could  it  be  the  Gerald  Lemoine  of  her  youthful 
days  who,  after  so  many  years,  had  again  crossed  her 
path?  Could  it  be  the  man  who  had  once  professed 
such  love  for  her  and  then  had  given  her  up  for  posi- 
tion and  wealth?    If  it  were  he,  would  he  recognize 


LILLIAN  BeVERE 


her  after  so  many  years,  and  would  she  have  to  tell 
him  of  her  sad  past,  which  she  was  striving  so  hard  to 
bury,  with  all  its  sweet  memories,  in  her  own  heart? 
Almost  mechanically  she  followed  softly  after  Mrs. 
Chester,  and,  looking  through  the  glass  that  inter- 
vened, knew  by  one  glance  that  it  was  her  former 
lover,  Gerald  Lemoine.  He  was  darker  from  the  ef- 
fects of  the  tropical  clime,  but  the  years  had  dealt 
v6ry  kindly  with  him.  Indeed,  as  she  looked  she  saw 
that  his  face  was  more  attractive  than  it  had  been  in 
bygone  days.  In  those  days  it  had  a  settled,  serious 
look  of  grim  determination  that  in  repose  detracted 
from  it  and  gave  it  an  older  appearance  than  his  years 
justified.  This  was  gone  now  and  his  face  wore  a 
bright,  cheerful  expression  very  becoming  to  it.  Life 
in  his  youth  had  been  a  battle,  now  it  was  a  song,  and 
the  effect  had  been  almost  magical. 

Thoughts  thronged  her,  but  in  the  midst  of  them 
she  heard  her  companion  whisper : 

"He  is  not  very  handsome,  but  has  a  fine  face,  an 
intellectual  cast  of  countenance,  and  his  dress  of  ele- 
gant black  accords  with  it  and  sets  off  to  advantage 
his  tall,  well-formed  figure.  But  I  must  go  to  baby. 
Go  in  and  be  introduced  to  the  stranger." 

"I  prefer  to  stay  among  the  flowers  awhile/' 
Lillian  said  quietly. 

"Well,  I  will  go  out  of  the  side  door,  get  baby  to 
sleep  and  come  back  as  soon  as  I  can,"  Mrs.  Chester 
said.  Knowing  Lillian's  fondness  for  flowers  and  her 
utter  indifference  to  gentlemen's  society,  her  decision 
to  remain  in  the  conservatory  did  not  in  the  least  sur- 
prise her. 

Lillian  was  glad  to  be  alone.  She  was  sorry  to 
meet  Gerald  Lemoine  again.  She  had  never  dreamed 
of  it.    She  imagined  he  had  gone  entirely  out  of  her 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  2$3 


life,  and  now  he  had  come  into  her  very  midst,  where 
she  must  meet  him,  either  as  a  stranger  or  as  a  former 
friend.  Why  had  he  come  to  awaken  painful  memories 
which  had  been  dormant  for  so  many  years— to  flaunt 
the  flag  of  the  past  over  the  peaceful  present?  Was 
there  to  be  no  permanent  peace  for  her?  She  must 
meet  him  as  a  stranger,  and,  if  he  did  not  recognize 
her,  she  could  treat  him  with  the  reserve  with  which 
she  treated  other  men,  and  it  would  excite  no  com- 
ment. 

Busy  with  her  thoughts,  she  was  surprised  when 
Mrs.  Chester  returned,  and  soon  she  was  standing  be- 
fore Gerald  Lemoine,  who  met  her  as  an  utter 
stranger,  and  during  the  evening  she  caught  often  his 
admiring  look,  but  there  was  no  recognition  in  it, 
nothing  to  show  that  he  had  ever  seen  her  before. 
For  this  Lillian  was  very  thankful  and  was  herself  as 
composed  as  if  he  were  the  stranger  he  seemed.  A 
few  days  after  he  became  a  guest  of  the  hotel,  and  as 
Dick's  friend  had  a  seat  at  the  table.  Thus  thrown 
together  so  often,  Lillian's  reserve  melted  imper- 
ceptibly to  herself  towards  Gerald.  He  was  so  much 
more  pleasant  and  entertaining  than  formerly.  She 
found  herself  unable  to  treat  as  a  stranger  one  she 
had  known  so  well,  and  soon  they  were  good  friends. 
From  him  she  received  attentions  she  had  not  allowed 
others,  and  seemed  to  take  more  pleasure  in  his  society, 
so  it  began  to  be  whispered  after  awhile  that  Mr.  Le- 
moine was  Mrs.  Devereux's  favored  suitor.  As  no  one 
dared  to  say  this  to  Lillian,  she  was  in  ignorance  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  exciting  comment  for  what  was 
so  natural  to  her.  She  did  not  consider  that  Gerald 
Lemoine  knew  her  only  as  a  stranger  and  was  en- 
couraged by  her  friendship  for  him.  She  afterwards 
greatly  blamed  herself  for  her  blindness  in  thus  rajs- 


LILLIAN  DeVERE  i  > 


leading  him.  She  was  too  true  a  woman,  too  true  to 
every  womanly  instinct  of  a  noble  nature  to  strive  to 
win  the  love  she  could  not  return. 

Mr.  Lemoine  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Mrs.  Chas- 
tine's,  and  she  hoped  he  would  love  Viola.  But 
Gerald  Lemoine  loved  Lillian  now  as  he  had  never 
loved  her  in  her  youth.  Then  there  had  been  mixed 
with  his  love  a  selfish  ambition  which  was  a  stronger 
passion  than  any  other,  even  love  for  the  peerless 
Lillian  De  Vere.  Now  that  ambition  gratified,  a  rich 
man  with  means  to  indulge  every  reasonable  desire, 
his  whole  wealth  of  love  went  out  for  one  object,  the 
lovely  Mrs.  Devereux.  The  winter  passed;  such  a 
pleasant  winter  it  was  to  our  friends. 

Gerald  Lemoine  had  flitted  around  Lillian  like  a 
moth  around  a  candle  until  at  last  one  evening  in  the 
spring  he  told  her  of  his  love.  She  sat  very  quiet  as 
he  told  her  of  how  he  had  loved  a  gloriously  beautiful 
girl  who  would  not  leave  her  aunt  to  go  with  him  to 
the  position  he  had  chosen. 

"As  I  look  back  upon  my  conduct,  I  feel  how  un- 
reasonable I  was  to  ask  her  to  do  such  a  thing.  In 
my  ambition  to  be  a  rich  man  I  was  incapable  of 
appreciating  the  lovely  traits  of  character  that  made 
Lillian  De  Vere  more  charming  even  than  her  tran- 
scendent beauty.  I  wrote  to  her  several  times,  but 
received  no  reply.  I  felt  then  I  had  killed  every 
particle  of  love,  even  of  respect,  she  had  felt  for  me, 
and  I  despised  myself  as  I  knew  she  despised  me. 
Still  I  worked  on,  giving  myself  but  little  rest,  saving 
my  money,  that  at  some  time  I  might  be  rich.  A  few 
months  ago  came  the  news  of  a  legacy  that  had  been 
left  me.  My  first  thought  on  receiving  it  was  to  find 
out  what  had  become  of  Lillian.  I  felt  confident  she 
was  married.    Such  marvelous  beauty,  such  grace  of 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  235 


manner  and  sweetness  of  disposition  had,  I  felt  as- 
sured, won  the  love  of  some  better  man !  After  many 
weeks'  search  I  found  she  had  married  and  that  she 
and  her  husband  were  both  dead.  I  went  to  the  grand 
old  place  that  had  been  their  home,  and  there  I  saw 
the  grave  of  the  girl  I  had  loved  so  fondly,  but  so 
selfishly.  I  thought  I  would  never  love  again,  but 
one  evening  I  saw  you,  and  you  were  so  strikingly  like 
my  lost  Lillian  I  loved  you  at  once.  Can  you  love 
me?" 

Then  he  pleaded  very  eloquently.  Lillian  gave  him 
a  very  gentle  but  firm  refusal. 

4 'I,  too,  have  loved  and  lost,"  was  Lillian's  quiet 
answer.  4 4 My  love  lies  in  my  husband's  grave,  and  I 
can  never  give  it  to  another.  I  am  exceedingly  sorry 
if  I  have  in  any  way  unconsciously  led  you  to  expect 
any  other  answer  to  your  suit.  I  have  taken  no  pains 
to  conceal  the  fact  that  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  again. 
I  honor  you  for  your  candor  in  telling  me  of  your  first 
love,  but  I  would  advise  you  in  seeking  a  wife  not  to 
tell  her  of  your  former  unhappy  experience,  as  it 
might  not  be  palatable  to  your  lady-love  to  know  yon 
had  loved  another.  Let  that  be  a  secret  locked  in 
your  own  breast,  to  which  she  has  no  right,  for  I 
suppose  very  few  people  marry  their  first  love,  and 
are  none  the  less  happy  for  not  doing  so. ' ' 

That  night  Gerald  was  absent  from  his  place  at  the 
table,  and  Dick  said  he  had  been  called  off  suddenly 
on  important  business.  The  next  evening  Judge  Allan 
and  Eva  sat  in  the  parlor  discussing  Lillian  and  her 
affairs,  as  they  were  both  fond  of  doing. 

4  4  Do  you  think  she  will  marry  that  fellow  Le- 
moine?"  the  Judge  asked. 

"I  think  she  will,"  Eva  answered,  thoughtfully. 
"  She  seems  to  like  him  better  than  any  other  gentle- 


236 


LILLIAN  DbVERE 


man.  I  saw  her  looking  at  his  picture  in  an  album 
once  and  I  never  saw  her  look  at  any  other  gentle- 
man's. He  may  be  gone  off  now  to  make  preparations 
for  the  marriage.'' 

• 4  Probably  so.  I  saw  her  blush  a  little  tonight 
when  Dick  said  he  had  gone  off  on  important  business. 
That  will  be  very  important  to  him/'  and  the  Judge 
smiled  a  grim  sort  of  smile  and  something  that  looked 
like  defiance  shone  in  his  eye.  Somehow,  for  some 
reason,  unaccountable  to  Eva,  the  Judge  seemed  very 
much  excited,  very  preoccupied,  too.  At  last,  after 
several  ineffectual  attempts  to  rally  to  his  accustomed 
composure,  he  excused  himself  on  the  score  of  business 
and  started  off  to  his  room.  As  he  reached  the  door, 
he  turned  back  and  whispered  to  Eva : 

"As  soon  as  you  find  out  when  the  wedding  is  to 
be,  let  me  know." 

"I  will,"  was  the  whispered  answer.  Eva  sat  at 
the  window,  apparently  looking  at  the  passers-by,  but 
she  was  wondering  what  made  Judge  Allan  look  so 
strange  when  he  spoke  of  Mrs.  Devereux  marrying 
Mr.  Lemoine. 

4 'He  really  looked  as  if  he  was  angry,  and  yet  he 
cannot  be,  for  while  he  admires  her  as  everybody  does, 
surely  he  cannot  love  her,"  and  the  girl  looked  very 
sadatsueh  a  thought  ;  and  yet  his  looks  and  deferential 
n^anners  to  Mrs.  Devereux  had  sometimes  made  her 
very  jealous,  for,  poor  girl,  she  had  given  this  man  all 
her  warm  young  heart. 

"It  must  be  professional  business — a  perplexing 
case  it  may  be,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  Though 
he  went  off  sometimes  and  stayed  two  or  three  weeks 
at  a  time,  he  never  in  any  way  alluded  to  his  profes- 
sional duties. 

Judge  Allan,  on  reaching  his  room,  pulled  a  large 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  237 


easy  chair  to  the  window  and  was  soon  lost  in 
thought.  Sometimes  he  would  spring  up,  with  flash- 
ing eyes  and  clenched  fists,  and  his  face  distorted 
with  emotions  of  intense  hatred  or  anger,  then  he 
would  settle  back  and  for  a  time  be  so  still,  so  mo- 
tionless, he  would  have  served  as  a  model  of  "Medita- 
tion." 

A  few  nights  after,  as  he  came  from  the  dining- 
room,  a  little  piece  of  paper  was  slipped  in  his  hand. 
On  it  were  the  words :  "It  will  be  very  soon,  I  think. 
The  dresses  have  been  ordered.  You'll  understand, 
I  know." 

A  gleam  of  anger  flashed  over  his  face  for  an 
instant,  then  with  the  greatest  coolness  he  twisted 
the  paper  into  a  lighter,  stepped  to  the  gas,  lighted 
his  cigar  and,  his  usual  imperturbable  self,  sauntered 
off. 


238  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  TELL-TALE  LETTER. 

One  morning  Lillian  overslept  herself  and  was  not 
ready  when  Eva  knocked  at  her  door  on  her  way  to 
breakfast.  Ten  minutes  later  she  was  hurrying  down 
the  steps,  when  the  sight  of  a  letter  on  the  step  below 
her  arrested  her.  She  picked  it  up,  turned  it  over 
and  saw  that  it  was  Judge  Allan's,  and  was  post- 
marked "Anston."  The  letter  had  been  carelessly 
thrust  into  the  envelope,  and  on  the  margin  her  eye 
caught  the  words  Evelyn  Brown.  She  wondered  who 
at  Anston  could  be  writing  to  Judge  Allan  about 
Evelyn  Brown.  At  that  moment  the  thought  came, 
Where  had  she  seen  that  peculiar  handwriting? 
Fascinated,  she  gazed  at  it.  Could  it  be  the  hand- 
writing of  Walter  Brunette's  mother?  It  was  start- 
lingly  like  that  she  had  seen  in  the  villa  at  ' 1 Queen's 
Beach."  What  could  that  man's  mother  write  to 
Judge  Allan  about?  Just  then  she  heard  some  one 
coming,  and,  without  even  thinking  why,  she  fled 
to  her  room,  the  missive  clasped  tightly  in  her  hand. 
Locking  the  door,  she  turned  it  over  and  over,  her 
mind  in  a  perfect  whirl,  as  it  always  was  when  the 
thought  of  AValter  Brunette  intruded.  In  vain  she 
reasoned  that  the  letter  was  Judge  Allan's  private 
property  and  should  be  returned  to  him  at  once.  At 
first  the  very  idea  of  reading  it  brought  a  flush  to 
her  cheek,  but  the  more  she  reasoned  against  it,  the 
stronger  was  the  temptation  to  find  out  the  contents. 

At  last  she  decided  to  read  it,  arguing  that  if  she 

did  not  she  would  feel  uneasy  all  the  time  lest  it  was 


THE  TELL-TALE  LETTER  239 


something  connected  with  herself  which  she  should 
know  ;  while  if  it  was  only  some  law  business  con- 
nected with  Evelyn  Brown's  estate,  as  it  probably 
was,  her  reading  it  could  not  do  any  harm.  So  draw- 
ing the  letter  from  the  envelope,  she  read  as  follows, 
with  what  feelings  can  be  better  imagined  than  de- 
scribed : 

My  Dear:  Your  last  duly  received  and  enjoyed. 
As  Evelyn  is  not  here — went  yesterday  morning  to 
Brownley  to  attend  to  some  business — and  as  you 
urged  a  speedy  reply,  I  will  answer  at  once  and  set 
you  at  rest  in  regard  to  the  woman  you  ask  about. 
Yes,  she  is  certainly  dead.  I  know  when  she  was 
brought  home  and  buried ;  heard  about  it,  at  least,  at 
the  time,  but  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  yester- 
day evening  I  made  John  hitch  up  the  carriage  and 
drive  me  over  to  the  Hall.  I  knew  the  housekeeper 
wouldn't  know  me,  so  I  went  in  as  a  stranger  who 
was  passing  by  and  wished  to  see  the  place.  The  old 
woman  took  me  all  through  the  house,  which  I  had 
never  seen  since  it  was  beautified  and  modernized  by 
Dr.  Nelson.  When  she  led  me  into  the  art  room  and 
showed  me  the  picture  of  that  woman  who  has  wrecked 
your  life  and  mine,  I  could  hardly  repress  my  anger, 
and  turned  away  suddenly  to  look  at  another  picture 
lest  the  old  woman  should  notice  it.  I  asked  her  to 
whom  the  Hall  belonged  now.  She  said  it  was  to  be- 
long to  any  Nelsons  who  would  prove  their  claim  to 
it,  but  none  had  yet  been  found.  At  my  request  she 
took  me  to  the  graveyard,  where,  with  my  own  eyes,  I 
saw  the  graves  of  the  husband  and  wife,  with  similar 
monuments.  At  the  side  of  the  mother  was  the  grave 
of  their  little  baby  boy  that  had  died.  They  were  all 
as  nicely  kept  as  possible  and  covered  with  fresh 
flowers.    So  you  may  give  yourself  no  further  un- 


240 


LILLIAN  DeVERK 


easiness  on  that  score.  The  resemblance  you  speak  of 
as  being  so  striking  is  either  accidental  or  the  widow 
may  be  a  distant  relative,  as  she  is,  you  say,  of  French 
extraction.  I  don't  blame  you  for  not  wanting  that 
prig  Lemoine  to  cut  you  out.  As  a  boy  he  was  hate- 
ful, and  now  he  has  a  little  money  I'm  sure  he  is 
disgusting.  I'm  uneasy  lest  he  discover  your  identity. 
He  is  very  shrewd  and  I  want  you  to  beware  of  him. 
though  I  know  you  are  extremely  clever  in  your  dis- 
guise when  you  can  deceive  your  own  mother,  as  you 
have  done  several  times  as  a  peddler.  Still  a  thought- 
less word  or  expression  might  expose  you,  and  you 
know,  my  darling,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you 
it  would  kill  me,  for  you  are,  as  you  have  ever  been, 
the  dearest  object  on  earth.  Write  often,  for  your 
letters  are  the  brightest  things  that  come  to  our 
darkened  home.  I  had  hoped  so  earnestly  you  would 
love  Evelyn,  as  she  loves  you.  If  so,  we  could  sell 
out  everything  here,  go  to  some  foreign  country  and 
yet  be  happy.  But  your  infatuation  for  that  woman 
and  now  for  one  who  resembles  her  dashes  away  all 
my  hopes  in  that  regard.  Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy,  would 
she  had  died  ere  your  eyes  beheld  the  fatal  beauty 
that  has  made  you  an  outcast  from  your  home.  It  is 
strange  what  infatuation  beauty  has  ever  held  for 
you,  even  from  a  child.  Alas !  alas !  my  son,  that  you 
did  not  realize  how  vain  and  deceitful  it  is !  I  have 
written  you  a  much  longer  letter  than  usual,  but  I  am 
always  so  lonely  and  sad  when  Evelyn  is  away.  It 
comforts  me  to  write  to  you  when  I  cannot  see  you. 
Surely  you  would  deny  no  comfort  to  your  poor 
mother,  who  has  so  few  comforts  or  joys  now.  If 
you  marry  the  woman  go  at  once  to  France,  make  a 
home  there,  and  Evelyn  and  I  will  join  you.  Write 
very  soon,  my  love.    Lovingly  yours. 


THE  TELL-TALE  LETTER  241 


When  Lillian  finished  reading  this  letter  that  did, 
indeed,  as  she  had  an  intuition,  pertain  so  much  to 
her,  she  sat  for  some  time  stunned  as  if  by  a  sudden 
blow,  from  which  she  found  it  difficult  to  recover  a 
sense  of  her  surroundings,  to  know  just  what  it  all 
meant.  But  she  had  been  so  often  confronted  by 
danger  and  difficulties,  she  came  to  herself  more 
quickly  than  a  novice  in  trouble  would  have  done, 
and  began  to  think  it  all  out.  Eva  had  come  to  the 
door  and  knocked,  wishing  to  know  if  she  would  have 
her  breakfast  sent  to  her.  Lillian  had  replied  she 
wished  no  breakfast,  but  desired  to  be  quiet  Cor  awhile. 
She  knew  Judge  Allan  was  Walter  Brunette  in  dis- 
guise. What  an  adept  in  disguise  the  man  was !  AYhen 
he  could  deceive  his  own  mother,  it  was  not  so  strange 
he  should  deceive  others.  In  his  character  of  judge 
he  was  deceiving  Eva,  whose  fondness  for  his  society 
she  had  noticed  with  some  misgivings,  but  knew  not 
how  to  interfere,  though  she  felt  quite  sure  the  man 
liked  her  only  as  a  friend.  Now  that  she  knew  the 
arch-traitor,  she  must  flee,  not  only  for  her  own  sake, 
but  for  that  of  the  young  girl  who  was  under  her 
care.  She  felt  she  could  not  again  sit  at  the  same 
table,  nor  sleep  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  His 
mother  had  spoken  of  his  marrying  her.  Surely  she 
had  mistaken  the  man 's  sentiments  for  her,  for  while 
she  could  now  interpret  many  looks,  many  attentions, 
many  things  that  had  appeared  as  trifles  to  her,  still 
he  had  given  no  direct  proof  that  he  admired  her 
more  than  other  men  had  done.  Was  he,  by  his  deli- 
cate attentions,  by  means  of  that  magnetism  which 
almost  irresistibly  drew  all  who  knew  him  to  like  and 
admire  him,  trying  to  win  her  love  ?  It  must  be  so. 
She  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

Lillian  could  think  quickly  and  act  as  quickly.  The 


242 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


resolve  was  made  at  once.  She  must  leave  the  city 
without  delay,  and  as  secretly  as  possible.  With  the 
greatest  possible  dispatch  she  set  to  work  to  pack  up. 
She  had  decided  to  tell  Eva  nothing  of  her  plans  until 
after  dinner,  then  she  would  help  her  pack;  but  a 
servant  had  brought  her  some  water,  and  when  she 
left,  Lillian  had  neglected  to  lock  the  door.  About 
an  hour  before  dinner,  Eva  came  to  the  door,  and, 
after  a  slight  knock,  opened  it.  She  was  surprised 
to  see  Lillian  busy  packing  and  to  be  told  they  were 
to  leave  the  city  early  the  next  morning. 

"Can  I  trust  you,  Eva,  with  a  very  important 
secret — one  you  must  disclose  to  no  human  being  Vr 

Eva  replied  she  could. 

"Well,  then,  something  of  vital  interest  to  me,  and, 
it  may  be,  to  you,  has  occurred  to  make  me  leave  this 
city  at  once.  We  must  pack  today,  make  all  prepara- 
tions as  quickly  and  as  rapidly  as  possible.  I  shall 
spend  the  night  with  Mrs.  Chastine  and  shall  send 
Viola  to  stay  with  you,  as  they  have  company,  and 
their  house  is  full.  Go  pack  now  and  I  shall  tell  you 
my  further  plans  later." 

When  Eva  came  by  for  dinner  she  said : 

"Have  my  dinner  sent  to  me.  I  am  tired,  but  do 
not  give  any  excuse  for  my  not  coming  to  the  table. 
Remember  your  promise  and  do  not  tell  anyone,  even 
your  friend,  Judge  Allan,  of  our  plans.  I  will  some- 
time explain  all  to  you." 

Eva  repeated  her  promise,  though  she  had  in  her 
pocket  a  note  to  Judge  Allan  telling  him  as  much  of 
Lillian's  plans  as  she  herself  knew.  Oh,  the  pro- 
gressiveness  of  sin,  the  power  of  love  that  sometimes 
makes  us  false  to  ourselves  and  untrue  to  others  that 
we  may  be  loyal  to  the  object  of  our  affections ! 

That  evening,  after  the  packing  was  all  finished, 


THE  TELL-TALE  LETTER  248 


Lillian  told  Eva  to  meet  her  at  the  train  that  left  very 
early  for  Baton  Rouge.  She  would  ask  Mr.  Beck- 
with  to  secure  her  a  carriage  and  conveyance  for  the 
baggage.  She  was  quite  sure  Viola  would  go  to  the 
train  with  her. 

"If  I  should  fail  to  get  there  in  time,  as  they 
breakfast  late  at  Mrs.  Chastine's,  I  wish  you  to  get 
your  ticket  and  check  and  have  all  my  baggage  ex- 
pressed to  Baton  Rouge.  Then  take  the  first  train, 
and  on  your  arrival  at  the  city  secure  a  carriage  and 
direct  to  be  driven  to  a  first-class  hotel.  On  the  next 
train  I  will  come  and  make  further  arrangements.  I 
shall,  however,  make  every  effort  to  get  there  in 
time." 

It  was  later  than  she  had  anticipated  when  she  had 
finished  settling  her  bill  and  perfected  her  final  ar- 
rangements so  as  to  give  Eva  no  trouble.  The  office 
was  brilliantly  lighted  and  the  gas  on  the  street 
seemed  dim  in  comparison.  Being  residences,  there 
were  fewer  lights  than  on  the  business  streets,  and 
Lillian,  more  nervous  and  excited  than  usual,  felt 
herself  afraid  to  go  the  short  distance  to  Mrs.  Chas- 
tine's. She  looked  around,  hoping  to  see  Dick  or 
some  one  she  knew  to  ask  his  protection,  but  there  was 
no  one  save  the  clerk,  who,  of  course,  could  not  leave. 
Chiding  herself  for  her  timidity,  she  passed  into  the 
street  and  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Chastine's  home,  thinking  how  surprised  her  friend 
would  be  at  the  story  she  had  to  tell.  How  she 
wished  she  was  safely  there ! 


244 


LILLIAN  DbVBRE 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WHERE  WAS  SHE  f 

After  Lillian  left  her,  Eva  lingered  around,  hoping 
Judge  Allan  would  come  and  tell  her  good-bye  before 
Viola  Chastine  should  arrive.  Surely  he  would  tell 
her  good-bye  and  give  her  some  assurance  of  his  love 
now  they  were  to  be  parted  for  an  indefinite  time.  If 
he  would  ask  her  to  be  his  wife,  she  would  not  go  with 
Lillian — would  give  up  her  position  and  remain  to 
be  the  happy  wife  of  the  man  she  loved  so  fondly. 
Why  was  Mrs.  Devereux  going  away  so  hastily  and  so 
secretly?  Was  it  to  be  an  elopement  with  Mr.  Le- 
moine  instead  of  the  grand  marriage  she  had  antici- 
pated ?  It  must  be  so.  But  why  should  they  elope  ? 
There  was  no  one  to  oppose  their  marriage ;  they  were 
both  free  to  do  as  they  pleased.  She  had  heard  Mr. 
Lemoine  say  if  he  ever  married,  he  should  like  it  to 
be  an  event  that  would  make  a  stir  among  his  friends, 
something  romantic — out  of  the  ordinary  course  of 
events.  Had  he  persuaded  Mrs.  Devereux  to  take 
this  step  to  gratify  this  desire  on  his  part?  She 
could  think  of  nothing  else  and  decided  she  was  right- 
Supper  came  and  neither  Judge  Allan  nor  Viola  Chas- 
tine put  in  an  appearance.  Surely  they  would  come 
later,  but  the  hours  went  by  and  neither  came.  She 
would  have  gone  to  Mrs.  Chastine  %  but  there  was  no 
one  to  go  with  her.  Oh,  if  only  the  Judge  would 
come  and  take  her  there !  She  was  afraid  to  sleep  in 
her  room  with  Mrs.  Devereux  gone.  It  was  strange 
Mrs.  Devereux  had  not  sent  some  one  else  if  Viola 
could  not  come.    She  had  always  been  so  kind,  so  con- 


WHERE  WAS  SHE 


243 


siderate  to  her.  At  last,  when  all  hope  of  Viola's 
coming  was  gone,  she  went  to  her  room,  and,  after  a 
long  time,  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  from  which  she 
was  awakened  by  the  maid  whom  she  had  asked  to 
arouse  her  in  time  for  the  train.  With  the  sunlight 
flooding  the  room,  her  fears  and  gloom  disappeared, 
and  soon  she  was  carrying  out  Lillian's  directions 
with  but  few  traces  of  the  agitation  of  the  previous 
night. 

She  reached  the  depot  in  ample  time,  and,  after 
securing  her  ticket  and  check  and  expressing  Lillian's 
baggage  as  she  had  desired,  she  anxiously  awaited  her 
friend's  arrival.  She  had  never  traveled  much  and 
felt  nervous  at  the  idea  of  undertaking  the  trip  alone ; 
but  she  looked  in  vain,  and  when  the  train  left  she 
left  on  it  with  a  sad  heart  that  Mrs.  Devereux  had  not 
come  and  Judge  Allan  hadn 't  told  her  good-bye.  The 
latter  seems  a  simple  thing  to  a  third  party,  but  it 
meant  much  to  this  loving,  trustful  girl.  She  secured 
a  room  at  the  hotel  for  the  day  and  met  the  second 
train.  Judge  her  disappointment  and  surprise  when 
Mrs.  Devereux  did  not  come,  and  this  surprise  greatly 
increased  when  on  telegraphing  to  that  lady  at  Mrs. 
Chastine's,  Mrs.  Chastine  replied  that  she  had  not 
seen  Mrs.  Devereux  and  had  no  idea  of  her  intention 
of  leaving  the  city. 

Thinking  this  exceedingly  strange,  and  not  know- 
ing what  else  to  do,  she  took  the  next  train  back  to 
New  Orleans  with  all  Mrs.  Devereux 's  effects.  All 
Lillian's  friends  were  at  once  thrown  into  the  greatest 
consternation  at  her  strange  and  sudden  disappear- 
ance. Mrs.  Chastine  made  Eva  go  over  and  ove» 
every  word  that  passed  between  her  and  Lillian  the 
last  day  at  the  hotel. 

' ■  Something  has  happened  to  her.    She  was  way- 


LILLIAN  DbVBBE 


laid,  perhaps  robbed  and  killed  on  her  way  to  our 
home,"  she  protested,  in  spite  of  her  son's  and  Mr. 
Scott's  arguments  against  the  unreasonableness  of 
such  a  thing. 

"I  know  Mrs.  Devereux  would  not  have  told  Eva 
she  was  coming  to  my  house  if  she  had  any  idea  of 
going  elsewhere,  and  she  would  not  have  given  such 
explicit  directions  about  everything." 

When  Eva  suggested  an  elopment  Mrs.  Chastine 
shook  her  head  decidedly,  saying : 

"  Mrs.  Devereux  is  a  remarkably  sensible  woman* 
I  have  admired  her  as  much  for  her  good  sense  as  for 
her  rare  beauty  and  graceful  manners.  She  wouldn't 
have  done  anything  so  silly  as  to  elope  to  produce  a 
sensation.  No,  no ;  take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  foul 
play,  and  that  arch-traitor,  Walter  Brunette,  is  at 
the  bottom  of  it.  I  think  nothing  would  give  me 
more  satisfaction  than  to  see  him  hung." 

Every  effort  was  made  to  find  out  where  Lillian 
was.  The  police  were  notified  of  her  disappearance 
and  told  to  be  on  the  lookout.  Detectives  were  given 
the  case  and  offered  large  rewards  for  any  news.  Ad- 
vertisements were  inserted  in  all  the  leading  papers, 
so  worded  that  if  she  saw  them  she  would  understand 
the  anxiety  of  her  friends  and  yet  no  publicity  be 
given.  All  her  friends  knew  she  was  extremely  sensi- 
tive about  figuring  in  public  in  any  way.  Even  an 
allusion  in  the  daily  paper  of  her  presence  at  some 
lady's  sociable  or  high  tea  and  a  compliment  to  her 
rare  beauty  seemed  rather  to  annoy  than  to  gratify 
her.  This  may  have  been  from  her  great  fear  of  her 
enemy  lest  he  should  in  some  way  again  find  and 
molest  her.  Eva  was  staying  at  Mrs.  Chastine 's  until 
some  news  of  her  employer  could  be  obtained.  She 
had  seen  Judge  Allan  but  once  since  Mrs.  Devereux 's 


WHERE  WAS  SHE 


247 


disappearance.  He  tad  met  her  on  the  street  and 
taken  her  to  get  ice  cream.  While  they  ate  it  he  had 
asked  her  many  questions  about  what  people  thought 
had  become  of  the  lady.  She  told  him  Mrs.  Chastine 
said  a  terribly  wicked  man  who  had  given  her  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  had  no  doubt  found  out  her  hiding 
place  and  abducted  her.  He  looked  at  her  very  seri- 
ously and  with  a  look  that  greatly  perplexed  her  when 
she  told  him  this.  He  laughed  when  she  gave  her 
opinion  that  Mrs.  Devereux  had  eloped  with  Mr.  Le- 
moine. 

"Why  should  they  have  eloped?"  he  asked. 

"Because  Mr.  Lemoine  said  he  wished  to  create  a 
sensation  when  he  married,  and  this  is  certainly  a 
sensation.  Now,  Judge, ' '  she  asked,  looking  anxiously 
into  his  face,  "what  do  you  think  of  this  sensational 
affair?" 

"I  think,"  he  replied,  very  slowly,  "that  Mrs. 
Devereux  is  safe  with  the  man  who  loves  her  and  that 
in  due  time  she  will  make  her  reappearance  into  so- 
ciety as  a  married  lady." 

"Then  why  did  you  laugh  so  quizzically  when  I 
expressed  a  similar  opinion  ? ' '  Eva  asked,  puzzled  at 
his  words  and  manner. 

"Merely  because  your  opinion  coincided  so  entirely 
with  my  own,  and  it  seems  we  are  the  only  ones  that 
believe  this;  but  rest  assured  we  are  correct,  as  time 
will  prove." 

"But  why  did  Mrs.  Devereux  act  so  strangely  to- 
wards me?  Why  did  she  send  me  on  that  unneces; 
sary  trip  to  Baton  Rouge  ?  Then  she  told  me  she  was 
going  to  Mrs.  Chastine's  and  send  Viola  to  spend  the 
night  with  me,  neither  of  which  she  did.  It  is  all 
very  strange,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"My  dear  Miss  Eva,"  was  the  calm  reply,  "when 


248 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


you  are  as  old  as  I  am  you  will  cease  to  be  surprised 
at  anything  that  occurs.  Nothing  seems  strange  to 
me.  If  it  is  a  little  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of 
events,  I  know  it  is  only  the  natural  sequence  of  some 
grand  law  we  sometimes  call  destiny.  Shakespeare 
understood  this  fully  and  said: 

t 'There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough  hew  them  as  we  will." 

"Do  not  worry  yourself  about  the  matter,  my  little 
friend.  In  due  time  it  will  all  come  right,  and  theii 
it  will  be  satisfactorily  explained. ' ' 

Eva  thought  much  of  Judge  Allan's  words  and 
manner  after  he  left  her.  Somehow  she  couldn't  dis- 
miss the  idea  that  he  knew  more  about  Lillian's  dis- 
appearance than  he  cared  to  tell.  While  he  asserted 
nothing  was  strange  to  him,  everything  about  the  af- 
fair seemed  strange  to  her.  If  Judge  Allan  knew 
more  than  her  friends,  why  should  he?  Mrs.  Dever- 
eux  certainly  never  treated  him  as  a  friend.  While 
she  was  courteous  to  him,  she  seemed  rather  to  avoid 
him.  She  would  never  accept  any  of  his  presents 
except,  perhaps,  to  taste  the  fruit  or  admire  the 
flowers.  The  only  attention  she  had  ever  received 
from  him  was  the  drive  and  she  had  to  beg  her  to  go. 
No,  she  felt  very  sure  Mrs.  Devereux  would  not  have 
confided  her  plans  to  Judge  Allan,  and  just  as  sure 
Mr.  Lemoine  would  not,  as  there  was  no  semblance  of 
friendship  between  the  two  men.  Mr.  Lemoine  had 
seemed  to  want  to  be  friendly  to  Judge  Allan,  but 
that  gentleman  had  resisted  all  his  overtures.  To 
Eva  he  had  spoken  in  the  most  contemptuous  terms  of 
Mr.  Lemoine. 

After  her  interview  with  Judge  Allan  she  had  been 


WHERE  WAS  SHE 


249 


more  mystified  than  ever  in  regard  to  Lillian  *s  where- 
abouts, and  as  the  days  lengthened  into  weeks  and 
no  tidings  came,  she  became  hopeless  of  Lillian's  re- 
turn. Through  Mrs.  Chastine 's  influence  she  obtained 
a  position  as  governess  of  two  small  children  in  the 
family  of  a  widow  lady  who  lived  but  two  squares 
from  the  Chastines.  When  about  six  weeks  after 
Lillian's  disappearance  Mr.  Lemoine  appeared  in  the 
city  and  was  as  much  surprised  and  grieved  as  every- 
one else,  the  mystery  deepened,  and  the  shadow-  that 
had  settled  upon  the  hearts  of  Lillian's  friends  grew 
darker. 

Judge  Allan  still  boarded  at  the  hotel  and  came  and 
went  in  his  usual  quiet  manner,  if  possible  more  re- 
served and  quiet  than  was  his  wont.  He  never  dis- 
cussed Lillian's  disappearance,  but  seemed  intensely 
interested  when  others  discussed  it.  If  anyone  asked 
his  opinion  he  gave  substantially  that  which  he  had 
given  to  Eva. 

Gerald  Lemoine  became  as  excited  and  interested 
as  the  Chastines  and  vowed  he  would  leave  no  stone 
unturned  to  unravel  the  mystery.  Tie  had  left  the 
city  after  Lillian's  refusal  and  turned  his  attention 
to  business  in  the  hope  of  conquering  his  love  for  the 
fair  widow ;  but  such  a  yearning  desire  to  see  her,  to 
be  her  friend,  if  he  could  not  be  her  lover,  came  over 
him,  he  determined  to  return  to  the  city  and  enjoy 
the  society  of  the  lady  he  loved,  though  his  should  be 
the  fate  of  the  moth  fitting  around  the  light. 

Yes,  he  would  go  and  bask  in  the  light  of  her  sweet 
smiles,  though  they  meant  only  friendship  for  him. 
So  he  had  come  back  to  learn  of  the  mystery  that 
enshrouded  her.  One  day,  talking  over  the  matter 
with  Mrs.  Chastine,  that  lady  had  said  excitedly : 

"I  believe  it  is  foul  play  on  the  part  of  that  per- 


260 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


fidious  villain,  Walter  Brunette,  who  has  been  the 
bane  of  her  life  for  so  many  years. " 

"Who?"  Gerald  Lemoine  had  asked,  in  the  greatest 
surprise. 

"Walter  Brunette,"  was  the  reply,  and  Mrs.  Chas- 
tine  told  him  how  that  man  had  persecuted  Lillian. 
When  she  had  finished  Mr.  Lemoine  exclaimed: 

"If  she  is  in  the  clutches  of  that  unprincipled 
villain,  may  heaven  protect  her.  I  knew  him  as  a  boy. 
He  was  my  step-brother  and  was  the  most  stubborn, 
persistent,  self-willed  person  I  ever  saw.  No  difficulty 
daunted  him,  no  lesson  at  school  was  too  hard  for  him 
to  master,  no  pleasure  too  unreasonable  to  be  denied, 
no  plan  too  difficult  to  be  attempted  and  carried  out. 
Indeed,  the  difficulties  that  stood  in  his  way  seemed 
to  act  as  so  many  incentives  to  urge  him  on  to  success. 

If  he  found  out  she  was  recued  from  death,  he  has 
abducted  her,  and  it  wall  be  almost  a  matter  of  impos- 
sibility to  foil  him,  and  yet  we  must  use  every  effort 
to  do  so.  Oh,  that  I  knew  which  way  to  turn,  could 
only  obtain  some  clue  to  her  fate ! ' ' 


QAPT.  HAL 


251 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

GAPT.  HAL. 

Capt.  Hal  McCarthy,  owner  of  the  merchantman, 
k' Scotch  Cap,"  was  in  a  towering  rage  and  all  his 
men  steered  clear  of  him,  for  as  one  of  them  said : 

1 1  Captain  Hal  was  an  all-right  man  when  he  was  all 
right  and  an  all- wrong  man  when  he  was  all- wrong. ' ' 

On  this  occasion,  not  even  Captain  Harry,  his 
nephew,  who  sometimes  dared  brave  his  uncle's  an- 
ger, tried  to  mitigate  his  wrath — he  seemed  rather  to 
be  gratified  by  it,  as  if  he  understood  it  and  wished  to 
profit  by  it  in  some  way.  For  several  years  past, 
Capt.  Hal  had  made  it  convenient  to  put  in  at  Lon- 
don every  November.  For  three  consecutive  years, 
he  had  returned  from  a  trip  to  that  city,  greatly  en- 
raged, muttering  threats  of  vengeance  upon  some  un- 
known person.  By  degrees  his  anger  would  subside 
and  stay  quiet  until  the  next  year. 

He  had  never  been  so  bad  as  on  this  present  occa- 
sion. He  was  a  fat,  round  red-faced  man,  whose  face 
took  on  several  shades  of  its  natural  color  when  he 
was  mad  and  the  sailors  had  never  seen  it  so  red  as 
now. 

Everybody  was  very  quiet  and  tried  unusually  hard 
to  please,  lest  he  should  empty  a  bottle  of  his  efferves- 
cing wrath  upon  their  head. 

Capt.  Hal  was  a  character  it  is  difficult  to  sketch. 
He  had  some  very  decidedly  good  qualities  and 
some  very  decidedly  bad  ones,  and  as  he  was  very  im- 
pulsive, it  was  not  easy  to  say  which  would  sway  him 
in  any  particular  transaction.  He  would  have 
knocked  any  man  down  without  delay  if  he  had  in 


252 


LILLIAN  PeVERE 


any  way  questioned  his  honor  as  a  business  man,  and 
yet  he  often  did  things  and  made  bargains  he  was 
ashamed  to  let  his  clear-headed,  noble-hearted  nephew 
know  of ;  feeling  instinctively  Capt.  Harry  would  dis- 
approve of  them  and  show  it  in  a  way  that  would 
make  him  feel  uncomfortable.  He  would  let  no  one 
question  his  right  or  authority  in  anything,  not  even 
his  nephew,  to  whom  he  allowed  more  privileges  than 
to  anyone  else,  and  who  could  influence  him  more,  and 
yet,  being  of  an  obstinate,  independent  nature,  he 
would  not  have  admitted  that  fact  even  to  himself. 

There  were  three  objects  that  Capt.  Hal  loved  with 
all  the  passion  of  his  passionate  nature.  First,  he 
loved  the  sea — he  was  a  true  tar  in  his  love  for  the 
water.  When  he  asked  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved  to  be  his  wife,  and  she  had  replied  that  she 
would  marry  him  if  he  would  settle  down  on  land,  as 
she  was  afraid  of  the  water,  he  had  angrily  told  her 
that  he  was  born  on  the  water  and  had  drawn  in  a  love 
of  it  with  every  whiff  of  air  he  had  breathed,  and  if 
she  was  afraid  of  it,  she  could  marry  some  contempti- 
ble "land-skeeter"  for  what  he  cared,  and  he  would 
still  cling  to  his  first  love. 

"When  he  put  in  that  port  about  a  year  later,  she  had 
sent  him  word  she  had  reconsidered  his  question  and 
he  coolly  sent  back  word  he  had  reconsidered,  too,  and 
thus  his  only  love  affair  had  ended. 

When  a  year  later,  his  only  brother,  who  for  love 
of  a  girl  had  left  the  sea,  died  of  a  pestilential  fever 
that  had  carried  off  his  wife  a  few  weeks  before,  leav- 
ing his  orphan  boy  of  eight  years  to  his  care,  Capt. 
Hal  received  the  charge  willingly  and  had  given  the 
handsome,  frank,  genial  boy  every  advantage.  The 
uncle  and  nephewr  loved  each  other  with  a  strong,  pe- 
culiar affection  for  natures  so  entirely  opposite. 


CAPT,  HAL 


253 


It  was  a  cross  to  both  when  "Capt.  Harry,"  as  the 
sailors  had  always  called  the  boy,  had  to  leave  the  ves- 
sel and  go  to  college,  and  it  was  a  high-day  when 
school  over,  he  returned  to  the  companionship  of  his 
uncle  and  the  men  who  for  so  many  years  had  been 
his  friends,  testifying  for  him  their  love  in  every  way 
known  to  them. 

Next  to  the  sea  and  his  nephew,  Capt.  Hal.  loved 
money.  He  used  to  argue  to  himself  that  he  wished 
it  for  Captain  Harry's  sake,  but  after  he  had  ac- 
quired quite  a  competency,  and  as  he  grew  older,  it 
became  a  passion  with  him. 

George  Bancroft  says  avarice  is  the  vice  of  later 
years.  It  was  so  in  his  case.  Capt.  Hal  was  never 
satisfied  unless  he  was  accumulating  money  and  when 
his  nephew  tried  to  induce  him  not  to  work  so  hard 
to  amass  wealth,  he  would  say  he  was  working  for 
him  and  call  him  ungrateful,  for  even  proposing  his 
resting  and  turning  the  business  over  into  his  neph- 
ew's hands.  He  used  often  to  say  when  Capt.  Harry 
proposed  to  relieve  him  of  some  responsibility: 

6 '  Young  fish  think  old  fish  ar  v  fools  and  old  fish 
know  young  ones  are.  No,  no,  fo  \ng  man,  when  this 
old  head  is  resting  in  the  sea-caverns  and  these  old 
bones  are  bleaching  in  sea-water,  you  will  be  captain 
of  this  vessel,  and  not  until  then." 

There  was  one  piece  of  business  the  old  Captain  had 
never  told  his  nephew  all  about ;  had  never  even  told 
him  how  it  was  negotiated.  The  year  before  Capt. 
Harry  graduated,  while  he  was  yet  at  college,  Capt, 
Hal 's  business  took  him  up  the  river  to  the  little  town 
of  Melton,  where  he  resolved  to  stay  several  clays  to 
give  his  men  rest  from  a  longer  voyage  and  more  la- 
borious work  than  usual.  The  first  night  after  his 
arrival,  while  most  of  his  men  were  on  shore,  Capt 


254 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Hal  sat  on  deck  quietly  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  twi- 
light. Absorbed  in  his  thoughts  of  business,  his  at- 
tention was  drawn  to  a  boat  approaching  his  vessel, 
and  soon  it  came  near  enough  for  him  to  hear  the 
splashing  of  the  oars. 

A  few  moments  later  it  was  drawn  up  to  the  side  of 
the  vessel  and  a  man  spran  :  on  board.  The  old  Cap- 
tain advanced  to  meet  tht  aewcomer,  who  extended 
his  hand  cordially,  and  said: 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you  again,  Captain.  I  don't 
believe  you  know  me,  but  I  am  an  old  friend." 

Capt.  Hal  certainly  did  not  know  him  and  frankly 
told  him  so.  Looking  cautiously  about,  the  man  whis- 
pered a  name.  The  old  Captain  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously, and  said : 

"I  would  never  have  knowTi  you.  What  are  you 
doing  down  here?  I  left  you  in  New  York  and  would 
as  soon  have  expected  to  see  His  Satanic  Majesty  in 
person  as  you  in  these  regions,  to  which  I  am  an  utter 
stranger.  I  declare,  Bru,  you  are  a  splendid  make- 
up!"^ 

"Be  cautious,  and  don't  on  any  account  mention 
my  name  to  anyone.  I  am  Wallace  Reed.  I  was 
called  to  these  parts  on  important  business  in  which  I 
want  your  help.  I  heard  you  were  here  to-day  and 
knew  you  were  one  I  could  trust.  As  my  time  is  lim- 
ited, I  can't  waste  words.  Is  there  any  place  where 
we  can  be  perfectly  safe  from  prying  eyes  or  listening 
ears?" 

This  latter  he  asked  in  a  low  whisper. 

"Oh,  yes;"  the  Captain  replied,  "in  my  state  room, 

no  one  can  see  or  hear. ' ' 

Calling  to  a  man  who  stood  not  far  off,  he  said : 
"Spike,  light  up  my  room  and  take  charge  of  the 

vessel,  while  I  attend  to  some  business  with  this  gen- 


CAPT.  HAL 


255 


tlemen.    Don't  let  anyone  come  near  or  disturb  us." 

When  the  men  had  entered  the  room  and  the  door 
had  been  locked,  they  seated  themselves  in  two  large 
easy  chairs  and  Mr.  Reed  said : 

'  4  This  business  is  not  exactly  in  my  line,  but  I  have 
been  induced  to  undertake  it.  It  is  this.  In  this 
neighborhood  there  is  a  man  who  has  done  another  a 
great  wrong,  one  he  can  never  forgive.  He  knows 
this,  and  being  a  poor,  weak-minded  fellow,  he  is  try- 
ing to  kill  the  man  he  has  wronged  and  the  wronged 
man  feels  if  he  continues  at  large,  one  or  the  other  will 
meet  death  at  the  hand  of  his  antagonist.  Now,  this 
gentleman  doesn't  want  to  kill  the  poor  fellow  nor 
does  he  want  to  lose  his  life  by  him.  To  avert  either 
catastrophe,  he  wishes  him  kept  out  of  his  way  and 
will  pay  the  man  handsomely  who  will  agree  to  do  it 
Now,  I  know  there  is  a  cell  in  this  vessel  which  will 
answer  most  admirably  for  that  purpose  and  I  pro- 
pose that  you  undertake  the  job  and  make  the  money 
All  you  will  have  to  do  is  to  keep  him  from  ever  com- 
ing back  to  annoy  and  threaten  the  life  of  this  man. ' ' 

"I  don't  understand,"  and  the  Captain's  wrinkled 
brow  contracted  into  a  deep  frown. 

Mr.  Reed  proceeded  to  explain  further.  It  was 
near  midnight  before  he  could  get  the  old  Captain  to 
see  plainty  enough  to  agree  to  his  plan.  Mr.  Reed's 
last  words  were  low  and  earnest : 

"Now,  you  understand,  you  are  to  stay  here  until 
you  receive  a  note  from  me  bearing  the  one  word, 
' '  Come. ' 9  That  evening  you  are  to  steam  down  to  a 
point  just  above  the  cliff,  three  miles  from  here.  You 
and  one  of  your  most  trusted  men  must  take  a  boat 
and  row  down  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  About  dark 
you  will  see  a  body  hurled  from  above  which  you 
must  be  prepared  to  rescue,  as  I  don't  want  the  man's 


256 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


death  on  my  hands.  The  cliff  on  the  riverside  is  con- 
sidered as  inaccessible  as  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  but 
by  means  of  a  little  blasting,  I  have  made  a  way  by 
which  I  can,  with  care,  ascend  and  descend  the  rocks, 
In  a  little  cove  I  will  hide  my  boat  securely  from  ob- 
servation at  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  As  soon  as  the 
man  is  thrown  over,  I  shall  descend  and  after  re- 
ceiving from  you  the  coat,  containing  his  papers,  with 
which  to  deceive  his  friends,  I  shall  pay  you  two  thou- 
sand dollars  in  gold  and  give  you  my  note,  in  my  own 
name,  agreeing  to  pay  you  six  hundred  dollars  in 
gold  yearly,  to  be  put  to  your  credit  in  the  Bank  of 
London.  If,  however,  you  let  the  man  get  loose,  you 
not  only  agree  to  forfeit  this  amount,  but  will,  by 
written  agreement,  pay  me  five  thousand  dollars  in 
default.' ' 

To  all  this  Capt,  Hal  agreed  and  the  bargain  was 
sealed  by  a  firm  hand-clasp,  which  Capt.  Hal  assured 
Mr.  Reed  was  a  true  Scotchman's  way  of  making  an 

oath. 

All  these  directions  had  been  carried  out.  The 
young  man  to  whom  chloroform  had  been  adminis- 
tered had  been  narrowly  rescued  by  " Spike,"  whose 
life  Capt.  Hal  had  on  one  occasion  saved  at  risk  of 
his  own  and  who  thought,  on  that  account,  he  must 
do  everything  his  preserver  wished  done  with  unques- 
tioning obedience.  He  was  a  small,  wiry  man,  with 
great  strength  in  his  long,  sinewy  hands.  He  was 
naturally  very  taciturn,  rarely  speaking  except  on 
business  or  to  reply  to  a  question,  then  with  as  few 
words  as  possible. 

His  name  was  Pinckney  Larrabee,  but  he  was  called 
"Spike"  by  everybody.  On  the  occasion  above  re- 
ferred to  he  had  gone  at  Capt,  Hal's  order  with  that 
gentleman,  who  left  the  vessel  to  take  a  whiff  of  salt 


OAPT.  HALL 


257 


air  abroad,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  say  sometimes, 
when  he  wished  to  take  a  row. 

Mr.  Reed  who  seemed  highly  delighted  at  the  suc- 
cess of  his  plan,  had  taken  the  coat  and  paid  the  money 
and  Spike  had  rowed  the  Captain  and  the  rescued 
man  hack  to  the  Scotch  Cap,  just  as  the  lamps  began 
to  be  lighted. 

Capt.  Hal  called  two  of  the  men  to  take  the  body  on 
board,  remarking  it  was  a  poor  wretch  they  had  got- 
ten out  of  the  water  and  they  must  try  to  bring  him 
to — that  he  must  be  informed  when  he  began  to  re- 
vive. 

Then  orders  were  given  to  steam  away  as  fast  as 
possible,  and  soon  the  Scotch  Cap  was  rapidly  leaving 
the  scene  of  the  adventure,  taking  the  man  with  it. 

It  was  nearly  day  before  Capt,  Hal  was  told  that 
the  man  appeared  to  be  coming  to  himself.  Then  they 
were  ordered  to  take  him  to  the  cell,  put  him  to  bed 
and  Spike  to  attend  to  him.  This  cell  was  a  small 
room,  built  most  securely.  It  was  too  small  to  admit 
of  a  bed  being  placed  in  it.  A  hammock  had  to  be 
swung  from  one  angle  to  the  other  to  be  long  enough 
for  a  man's  length.  There  were  two  small  windows 
near  the  top  through  the  iron  bars  of  which  came  a 
dim  light.  Some  said  this  room  had  been  built  by  the 
first  owner  of  the  vessel  for  his  insane  brother,  who 
was  compelled  to  be  kept  in  great  security,  being  so 
violent  at  times  no  one  could  go  into  his  room.  Others 
entirely  discredited  this  story,  saying  it  had  been 
built  as  a  repository  for  the  large  valuables  entrusted 
to  the  care  of  the  Captain  during  the  voyage. 

This  seemed  probable,  as  the  lock,  very  similar  to 
the  locks  of  iron  safes,  was  curious  and  complicated, 
the  combination  of  which  was  known  only  to  Capt, 
Hal,  Captam  Harry  and  Spike. 


258  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


In  case  of  mutiny  the  valuables  would  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  anyone  to  whom  the  combination  was  un- 
known. 

Capt.  Hal  used  this  place  as  a  prison  for  refractory 
sailors.  He  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian.  The  slightest 
act  of  insubordination  on  the  part  of  his  men  was 
punished  by  imprisonment  in  this  cell,  and  the  pris- 
oner was  allowed  nothing  but  bread  and  water  until 
he  became  penitent  enough  to  confess  his  short-com- 
ings. At  least  this  had  been  their  punishment  until 
the  young  man  above  alluded  to  had  been  taken  on 
board  and  confined  in  the  cell;  then  another  mode 
had  to  be  resorted  to. 

Into  this  dark  narrow  cell  Robert  Nelson  was 
placed  as  soon  as  he  seemed  to  revive  from  his  near 
escape  from  drowning  and  the  effects  of  the  chloro- 
form, which  combined,  would  probably  have  killed  a 
less  healthy  mind  and  body. 

As  it  was,  it  was  a  mistake  when  the  men  thought 
him  reviving,  for  after  a  slight  movement  of  limb, 
he  had  settled  back  into  a  stupor  which  lasted  for  sev- 
eral weeks.  He  was  only  aroused  by  Spike's  contin- 
ued efforts  to  induce  him  to  swallow  the  food,  wine 
and  water  which  was  brought  after  every  meal,  and 
which  was  by  the  Captain's  orders,  ample  and  such  as 
he  had  on  his  own  table,  which  was  always  well  fur- 
nished with  every  available  thing  that  could  tempt 
the  appetite. 


A  FRI1ND  IN  NEED  259 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 

It  was  many  weeks  before  Robert  Nelson  fully  real- 
ized his  situation.  When  aroused  from  the  stupor 
into  which  he  had  first  fallen,  his  mind  was  in  a  dazed 
state  as  when  a  person  is  awakened  from  a  deep  sleep. 
Indeed  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  dreamy  condition  when 
awake,  which  at  first  continued  until  he  slept  again. 
Everything  was  mechanical  with  him.  But  one  day 
he  seemed  suddenly  to  have  awakened  from  a  long, 
deep  sleep  and  to  have  come  to  himself,  as  it  were, 
with  a  sense  of  his  surroundings,  which  in  his  dreams 
had  puzzled  him  so  much. 

Having  no  idea  of  the  time  that  had  elapsed,  he 
thought  it  w7as  but  yesterday  when  he  had  started 
from  Melton  with  the  hope  of  soon  seeing  Lillian 
again.  At  thought  of  her,  he  bowed  his  head  on  his 
hands  and  wept  bitterly.  His  beautiful  darling!  He 
had  just  reached  the  cliff,  when  in  the  twilight,  two 
masked  men  leaped  from  ambush  and  simultaneously 
one  seized  his  horse  and  the  other  the  pistol  which 
he  had  placed  on  the  seat  of  the  buggy.  A  handker- 
chief was  put  to  his  nose  and  he  became  very  dizzy. 

The  man  after  pulling  him  from  the  buggy  at- 
tempted to  seize  him  by  main  force,  but  he  resisted 
with  all  his  failing  strength  which  made  the  attempt 
ineffectual.  He  had  some  remembrance  of  being 
pushed  up  a  steep  place  and  then  of  falling.  After 
that  he  knew  no  more. 

He  realized  now  it  was  a  well-laid  plot  of  Walter 
Brunette's  to  get  him  out  of  the  way.    Oh,  that  he 


260  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


had  been  as  cautious  as  Lillian  had  wished  him  to  be, 
but  in  his  pride,  thought  it  cowardly  to  be  prudent. 
How  her  words  now  seem  to  ring  in  his  ears. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Robert,  for  my  sake  be  cautious,  for 
that  man  is  as  cunning  as  a  serpent  and  as  cruel  as 
the  grave. " 

He  groaned  as  he  thought  that  if  he  had  only  taken 
her  advice  he  would  not  now  be  in  that  villain  ?s  power 
from  which  there  was  no  hope  of  escape.  His  poor, 
wronged  darling!  She  no  doubt  believed  him  dead 
and  it  was  better  for  her  to  think  so.  How  misera- 
ble she  would  be  if  she  knew  the  truth  and  how  earn- 
estly he  prayed  that  she  might  not  know  it. 

His  condition  can  better  be  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. To  think  was  torture — not  to  think  impossi- 
ble. 

He  tried  to  question  "Spike."  He  might  as  well 
have  questioned  the  Sphynx.  If  he  answered  at  all, 
it  was  "dunno."  He  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
where  he  was.  Sometimes  he  imagined  he  was  mov- 
ing. He  heard  the  boat  whistle  and  thought  it  was 
a  locomotive  whistle.  He  wondered  where  they  were 
carrying  him.  One  day  he  found  out,  by  putting  his 
stool  on  the  flat  hammock,  he  could  see  through  the 
bars  of  the  window.  He  could  look  out  upon  a  broad 
expanse  of  water  and  knew  he  was  on  a  boat. 

Once  he  had  begged  Spike  to  get  him  a  paper,  some- 
thing to  read  or  he  should  go  mad.  A  curious  ex- 
pression, something  like  a  ghost  of  a  smile  played 
over  the  man's  stolid  face  for  a  moment.  Several 
.days  after  he  brought  Robert  a  French  paper  of  re- 
cent date.  From  this  Robert  knew  they  were  at  a 
French  port.  He  could  read  and  speak  French  al- 
most as  fluently  as  a  native  Frenchman.  His  mother 
had  taught  him  and  Helen  from  a  child  to  converse 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 


261 


with,  her  in  French,  carefully  correcting  any  mistake. 
She  had  insisted  that  they  should  give  much  of  their 
attention  to  perfecting  themselves  in  the  language  at 
school. 

Spike  little  suspected  that  what  he  intended  as  a 
grim  joke  was  a  great  pleasure  to  the  prisoner.  Rob- 
ert hungered  for  something  to  divert  his  thoughts  and 
this  paper  served  admirably  for  that  purpose. 

He  allowed  himself  to  linger  over  everything  he 
read,  pondering  it  carefully  just  as  a  child  eats  slowly 
anything  of  which  it  is  fond.  Even  the  advertise- 
ments furnished  him  food  for  thought.  He  wove  ro-« 
mances  around  them.  The  next  day  he  would  change 
these  and  from  day  to  day  he  reread  the  paper,  ever 
finding  something  in  it  to  interest  him. 

Fearing  lest  Spike  should  find  out  the  pleasure  it 
gave  him  and  take  it  from  him,  he  hid  it  when  he 
heard  him  coming  as  a  miser  hides  his  gold.  One 
day  he  ventured  to  ask  again  for  a  paper,  and  Spike 
brought  him  a  German  paper.  Robert  had  studied 
German,  but  he  had  forgotten  a  great  deal  about  it. 
He,  however,  was  glad  to  get  the  paper,  and  day  by 
day  studied  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  task  at  school  and 
gradually  he  began  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with 
the  language  and  read  it.    Thus  the  months  passed. 

To  Robert  it  Avas  only  day  and  night.  Sometimes 
he  became  desperate.  Once  he  even  thought  of  kill- 
ing Spike  and  of  trying  to  make  his  escape,  but  this 
idea  was  dismissed  both  as  wicked  and  as  useless  as 
well.  He  had  noticed  that  the  door  shut  of  its  own 
accord  as  soon  as  Spike  entered  and  it  required  a 
knowledge  of  the  complication  for  him  to  get  out  as 
well  as  to  get  in,  so  to  murder  his  keeper  would  do 
him  no  good.  He  had  been  a  prisoner  more  than  a 
year,  when  Capt.  Harry  finished  school  and  came  on 


262 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


board  to  stay.  It  was  several  weeks  before  that  gen- 
tleman found  out  anything  about  the  strange  pris- 
oner, whom  Capt.  Hal  had  never  seen  since  the  night 
he  brought  him  to  the  vessel,  and  would  not  have  rec- 
ognized again,  even  if  the  confinement  had  wrought 
no  change  in  him,  so  slight  had  been  his  notice  of  the 
man  he  was  so  deeply  wronging. 

Before  Captain  Harry  came  back,  he  had  called  all 
the  men  up  and  told  them,  on  pain  of  punishment, 
not  to  tell  Capt.  Harry  anything  about  the  man  in  the 
cell  and  if  he  found  out  he  was  confined  there  and 
asked  any  questions  to  confess  their  ignorance  and 
send  him  to  him  for  information. 

"The  boy  is  so  soft-hearted  he  will  hate  to  have 
the  fellow  confined,  even  if  he  knows  his  own  and  our 
safety  demands  it.  The  man  is  as  crazy  as  a  loon  and 
desperate,  they  say,"  he  explained. 

So  Capt,  Harry,  "glad  in  the  freedom  of  school  let 
out, 7 '  glad  to  get  back  to  the  only  home  he  remembered 
much  about,  gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
attractions  of  the  sea.  While  he  didn't  love  the  sail- 
or's life  with  the  same  ardor  as  his  uncle,  yet  it  was 
the  only  home  of  which  he  had  much  remembrance 
and  his  uncle  who  had  always  been  kind  to  him,  in 
his  peculiar  way,  was  the  only  near  relative  he  had 
in  the  world  and  he  loved  him  very  fondly,  tho'  he 
knew  and  often  grieved  over  his  faults.  Then,  too, 
after  he  had  come  on  board  from  Glasgow,  where  he 
had  been  educated,  they  had  sailed  directly  to  Rome, 
in  which  old  city,  Capt.  Harry  always  found  some- 
thing new  to  interest  and  delight  him  and  while  in 
that  port  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  city.  But  one 
morning  he  came  suddenly  upon  Spike  taking  the 
prisoner  his  breakfast.  The  man  fumbled  at  the 
lock  in  a  confused  way  waiting  for  Capt,  Harry  to 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 


263 


pass,  but  that  gentleman  stopped  and  unsuspiciously 
asked  him  who  was  in  the  cell. 

1  'Bad  boy,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"What  has  he  done?"  was  the  next  question. 

"Dunno,  sir,"  was  briefly  answered. 

Knowing  Spike's  reticent  nature,  he  passed  on 
thinking  of  course  it  was  one  of  the  men  who  had  been 
guilty  of  some  misdemeanor,  tho'  he  wondered  that 
he  should  be  fed  from  his  uncle's  table  instead  on 
the  bread  and  water  as  heretofore. 

It  passed  out  of  his  mind  until  one  fine  night,  he 
was  hurrying  on  deck  to  join  his  Uncle  in  a  smoke 
and  to  have  a  quiet  talk  when  on  passing  the  cell,  a 
deep  groan  arrested  him. 

He  stopped  for  a  moment  and  it  was  repeated. 

On  seating  himself  opposite  his  Uncle,  he  asked: 

"Uncle,  what  has  the  poor  fellow  in  the  cell  done? 

I  heard  him  groan  as  I  passed  as  if  in  great  distress 

of  mind  or  body. ' ' 

Capt.  Hal  shifted  his  position  uneasily,  fingered  his 
pipe  awhile,  then  after  some  time  consumed  in  get- 
ting a  comfortable  posture,  with  his  gaze  over  the 
quiet  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  he  answered 
slowlv : 

m 

"It's  a  poor  crazy  fellow  that  I  took  on  board  at 
the  desire  of  his  friends  to  keep  out  of  trouble.  Some 
people  whom  he  has  injured  threatened  his  life  and  he 
threatened  theirs,  so  for  their  sakes  and  his  own, 
knowing  I  had  a  cell  on  board,  they  persuaded  me  to 
take  him  here,  thinking  he  would  fare  better  than  in 
a  mad-house." 

Capt.  Harry  looked  at  his  Uncle  in  great  surprise, 
as  if  scarcely  crediting  his  own  ears. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Uncle,  that  the  inmate  of  the 


2U 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


cell  is  insane  and  yon  are  keeping  him  confined  on 
that  account?" 

"That's  just  it,"  Capt.  Hal  replied. 

"Where  is  his  family?"  was  the  next  question. 

' 'He  has  no  family.  Fortunately  he  is  the  last  rep- 
resentative of  his  family. ' ' 

' '  What  is  his  name  ? '  7 

"John  Dodd." 

"Poor  fellow!  what  a  miserable  existence.  Is  he 
violent  that  he  has  to  be  confined  all  the  time  ? ' ' 

"He  is  not  violent  all  the  time,"  was  the  evasive 
answer,  "but  we  have  to  keep  him  secure  to  guard 
against  his  attacks,  which  might  prove  dangerous  to 
us  as  well  as  to  himself.    Spike  has  to  go  armed. '  7 

"I  want  to  see  him,"  Capt,  Harry  said,  thought- 
fully. "Perhaps  I  can  do  something  to  alleviate  the 
loneliness  and  sadness  of  his  condition." 

"No,  sir;  you  are  not  to  go  into  that  cell,"  and  the 
Captain  brought  the  two  uplifted  legs  of  his  chair  to 
the  floor  with  a  loud  bang  by  way  of  emphasis. 

"Spike  attends  to  all  his  wants.  He  has  every- 
thing necessary  to  his  comfort.  I  am  sorry  I  under- 
took the  care  of  the  fellow  and  I  don't  want  you  to 
make  me  sorrier  still  by  going  in  there  and,  perhaps, 
being  killed  by  the  madman  or  have  to  kill  him  in 
self-defense.  No,  sir;  I  don't  want  you  to  put  your 
foot  in  that  cell,  do  you  hear  me,  sir  ? " 

"I  hear,"  Capt.  Harry  replied,  quietly,  smoking 
away  as  if  greatly  enjoying  his  cigar,  but  really  not 
thinking  of  it.  He  was  making  up  his  mind  to  form 
the  acquaintance  of  the  mysterious  inmate  of  the  cell 
as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  without  his  uncle's  knowl- 
edge, as  he  did  not  wish  to  incur  that  irascible  old 
gentleman's  displeasure. 

After  several  days'  careful  watching  he  found  out 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED  265 


where  Spike  secreted  the  key,  which  was  a  point 
gained.  A  few  days  after  Capt.  Hal  and  Spike  left 
the  vessel  to  fish  oft'  a  certain  noted  fishing-place. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  world  that  gave  Spike  so 
much  pleasure  as  fishing  and  Capt.  Hal  was  very  fond 
of  the  sport,  too. 

As  soon  as  they  left,  Capt,  Harry  called  the  men  up 
and  told  them  he  wished  to  go  in  to  see  the  man  in  the 
cell  and  his  uncle  did  not  wish  him  to  go. 

' 1  Now,  boys, ' '  he  said,  ' '  I  am  going  in  that  cell  and 
I  don't  want  any  of  you  to  peach  on  me  to  the  Cap- 
tain nor  Spike.  I  know  you  are  all  my  friends  as  I 
am  yours,  so  I  can  trust  you.  Just  let  me  know  when 
you  see  Uncle  coming. ' ' 

When  Capt.  Harry  entered  the  cell,  he  saw  a  man 
seated  on  a  stool,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands, 
the  very  picture  of  woe.  He  laid  his  hand  gently 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  figure,  so  quiet  and  motion- 
less. Robert  Nelson  looked  up  with  a  wild  glare 
in  his  eyes,  chat  Spike  had  seen  but  once  or  twice,  and 
that  man,  though  he  sneered  at  fear,  kept  at  a  safe 
distance  and  left  as  quickly  as  he  could. 

Robert  was  in  one  of  his  desperate  moods.  For 
days  his  mind  had  dwelt  upon  his  wrongs  and  his  sor- 
rows until  he  Avas  on  the  very  verge  of  insanity.  At 
any  other  time  he  would  have  been  encouraged  at  the 
kindly  expression  of  the  stranger,  but  to-day  he  was 
almost  beside  himself  with  grief,  and  the  sad,  pitying 
gaze  of  one  whom  he  thought  was  keeping  him  in 
prison  for  the  sake  of  the  money  he  would  get  from 
Walter  Brunette,  seemed  but  to  mock  his  misery. 

Springing  up,  he  confronted  the  man  naturally 
judged  his  enemy,  with  flashing  eyes  and  hostile  ex- 
pression. Capt.  Harry  felt  a  little  uncomfortable, 
for  he  had  come  unarmed  and  his  uncle's  words  of 


266 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


warning  came  to  him,  but  he  said,  very  quietly  and 
kindly : 

"My  poor  fellow,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Do  for  me!  Do  for  me,  indeed!  You  know 
what  you  can  do  for  me.  You  can  open  that  prison 
door  and  let  me  go  back  to  my  poor  persecuted  wife, 
who  doubtless  mourns  me  as  dead,  and  change  the 
grief  of  my  beautiful  darling  into  joy.  If  you  have 
one  spark  of  humanity  or  manhood,  you  will  undo  as 
quickly  as  possible  the  great  wrong  you  have  done  for 
the  sake  of  Walter  Brunette 's  gold.  My  wealth  is 
equal  to  his  own.  I  can  pay  you  as  much,  even  more, 
for  releasing  me  as  he  pays  you  for  keeping  me.  If 
avarice  is  your  motive,  I  would  look  to  the  main 
chance  and  get  all  I  could.  Will  you  listen  to  me  as 
I  plead  for  my  wife's  sake,  my  beautiful  Lillian ?" 

Robert  had  uttered  these  words,  hastily,  excitedly, 
keeping  his  wild  eyes  fixed  upon  Capt.  Harry,  his 
breath  coming  in  short,  quick  gasps,  as  if  his  strength 
was  not  sufficient  for  the  effort  he  was  making  to  ex- 
press himself.  At  the  thought  of  Lillian,  his  expres- 
sion changed,  his  strength  seemed  to  fail.  Sinking 
into  his  former  seat,  he  buried  his  head  in  his  hands, 
and  sobbed  aloud. 

Capt.  Harry  was  touched  as  he  had  never  been  in 
his  life.  The  man  was  so  different  from  what  he  ex- 
pected. He  had  thought  he  was  some  poor,  ignorant 
fellow,  whom  his  friends  were  trying  to  get  rid  of. 
Instead  he  saw  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  unmistaka- 
bly so.  His  face,  his  expression,  his  words  showed 
that  undefinable  something  that  always  accompanies 
good  breeding;  showed  that  wealth,  culture  and  re- 
finement had  been  his  at  sometime  in  his  life.  Crazy 
now,  no  doubt,  but  he  had  not  become  so  from  a  nat- 
urally weak  mind. 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 


367 


Laying  his  hand  gently  on  the  bowed  head,  Capt. 
Harry  said,  as  if  trying  to  soothe  a  grieved  child : 

4 'Don't  take  on  so,  my  poor  friend.  It  hurts  me  to 
see  you  so  disconsolate.  I  will  be  your  friend.  You 
are  mistaken  in  thinking  I  had  anything  to  do  with 
your  imprisonment.  I  knew  nothing  about  it  until 
a  short  time  ago,  and  at  once  decided  I  would  alle- 
viate your  loneliness  as  much  as  I  could,  even  at  the 
risk  of  the  great  displeasure  of  the  one  who  is  really 
your  keeper.    Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?" 

Robert  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  man  who  was 
showing  himself  his  friend. 

Poor  fellow!  he  sadly  needed  a  friend  to  keep  him 
from  despair.  After  a  pause,  he  said,  more  calmly 
than  he  had  yet  spoken: 

"I  thank  you  for  your  kind  words  and  assurance 
of  your  friendship.  I  want  you  to  know  why  I  am 
here,  and  I  would  like  you  to  listen,  Avhile  I  tell  you  as 
briefly  as  I  can  the  cause  of  my  misfortunes." 

Capt.  Harry  assured  him  he  would  be  pleased  to 
listen,  then  stretching  himself  on  Robert's  hammock 
he  became  quiet  and  attentive,  while  Robert  began : 

"I  am  the  owner  of  a  fine  estate  called  Randolph 
Hall.  I  married  soon  after  leaving  school,  a  beauti- 
ful orphan  girl,  the  adopted  daughter  of  one  of  our 
most  highly  esteemed  neighbors.  Before  our  mar- 
riage, my  Lillian  had  been  loved  by  a  man,  or  a  demon 
rather,  with  the  beauty  and  form  of  a  prince.  Be- 
cause she  preferred  me  to  him,  he  became  my  bitter 
enemy,  and  vowed  she  should  never  marry  me.  Once 
he  tried  to  make  her  consent  to  marry  him  at  the  point 
of  a  pistol,  and  I  was  just  in  time  to  rescue  her,  but 
received  a  very  painful  wound  from  his  pistol.  After 
our  marriage,  he  shot  me  in  a  summer-house,  while  I 
was  walking  with  and  talking  to  my  wifs.    My  sis- 


268 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


ter,  a  sufferer  from  heart  disease,  attracted  by  the  pis- 
tol-shot, ran  to  the  spot,  and  seeing  me  covered  with 
blood  and  my  wife  in  a  death-like  swoon  at  my  side, 
fell  dead  at  our  side.  Being  a  flesh-wound,  I  soon 
recovered,  but  my  wife  was  ill  many  months  and  all 
her  luxuriant,  dark  hair  came  out  and  a  soft,  white 
silky  hair  came  in  its  place.  About  two  years  after 
I  was  compelled  to  go  to  the  city  on  business.  On 
my  return,  when  about  half-way  home  and  near  a 
steep  cliff,  overlooking  the  river,  I  was  suddenly  at- 
tacked by  two  masked  men,  one  seizing  my  horse,  the 
other  my  pistol  which  I  had  on  the  seat  with  me.  I 
was  drugged  and  thrown  over  the  cliff  and  then 
found  myself  a  prisoner  here,  where  I  have  been  for 
years,  it  seems  to  me,  tho'  I  have  no  idea  of  the  time 
that  has  elapsed.  I  have  thought  it  all  over  and  I 
am  quite  sure  it  is  the  work  of  that  villain,  "Walter 
Brunette,  who  has  hired  some  one  to  keep  me  here 
that  he  may  induce  my  wife  to  marry  him,  or  failing 
in  that,  keep  me  from  the  enjoyment  of  a  life  with 
her,  for  jealousy,  you  know,  is  as  cruel  as  the  grave. 
You  have  heard  my  strange  story,  every  word  of 
which  is  true.  I  see  you  do  not  believe  it,  but  im- 
probable as  it  may  seen  it  can  all  be  proven.'' 
Capt.  Harry  was  thinking. 

4  4  He  is  very  intelligent  and  shrewd,  but  mad  as  a 
March  hare." 

At  this  moment  there  came  the  premonitory  knock 
and  Capt.  Harry  left,  promising  to  come  as  often  as 
he  could. 

4 'Bring  me  a  paper,"  pleaded  the  prisoner. 

' '  Look  out  every  day.  I  mil  try  to  push  one  under 
the  door  every  time  I  can  do  so  unobserved.  Do  not 
let  Spike  see  them,  nor  let  him  suspect  my  visit  to 
you. ' ' 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS  269 


CHAPTER  XL. 

AFTER  MANY  DAYS. 

After  this  visit,  Capt.  Harry  seized  every  oppor- 
tunity to  see  the  prisoner  who  had  so  greatly  inter^ 
ested  him.  Sometimes  he  would  lie  awake  many 
hours  thinking  of  Robert  Nelson's  sad  story.  He 
did  not  believe  it,  of  course,  but  he  knew  Robert  be- 
lieved it  and  suffered  from  it  as  acutely  as  if  it  was* 
real.  The  man  was  so  intelligent,  conversed  so 
soundly  and  rationally  upon  every  other  subject,  it 
seemed  very  strange  he  should  have  made  himself  the 
hero  of  such  a  romance — had  even  assumed  a  name  to 
fit  it — for  once  when  he  had  addressed  him  as  Mr. 
Dodd,  Robert  had  said  firmly  and  proudly : 

i  1  That  is  not  my  name,  sir.  I  am  Robert  Nelson  of 
Randolph  Hall/'  and  to  please  him,  Capt.  Harry  ever 
afterward  addressed  him  as  Mr.  Nelson,  but  think- 
ing it  a  fancied  name. 

Robert  had  tried  hard  to  convince  his  new-found 
friend  of  the  truth  of  his  story,  strange  though  it  was, 
but  while  Capt.  Harry  listened  attentively,  Robert 
knew  intuitively  he  did  not  believe  him,  and  he  finally 
gave  up  in  despair. 

Since  his  first  visit  Robert  had  given  no  indication 
of  violence.  He  always  received  the  young  Captain 
with  a  smile  as  kindly  as  his  own.  Every  few  days 
he  had  found  a  paper  thrust  under  his  door  and  books, 
fruits  and  flowers  were  brought  to  cheer  his  lonely, 
sorrowful  life.  Capt.  Harry  had  never  mentioned 
the  man  in  the  cell  to  his  uncle  after  that  first  night, 
and  Capt.  Hal.  congratulated  himself  upon  having 
gotten  oyer  the  dreadful  task  of  telling  his  nephew 


270 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


about  the  madman  so  easily,  little  suspecting  the  inti- 
macy that  had  grown  up  between  them. 

Everything  suspicious  was  carefully  hidden  from 
Spike's  eyes  and  if  he  had  any  suspicion  of  the  state 
of  affairs  he  never  told  the  old  Captain. 

Years  passed  on.  Every  year,  the  last  of  October, 
Capt.  Hal  put  in  at  Glasgow  near  which  city  he  had 
friends,  who  were  fond  of  hunting,  and  the  old  Cap- 
tain took  his  annual  hunt  of  a  week  or  two  with  them, 
not  so  much  for  the  sport,  as  to  be  with  his  boon  com- 
panions, and  ' i  stretch  his  legs  on  land  for  awhile ' '  as 
he  said. 

Now,  Spike  had  relatives  near  Glasgow,  too,  whom 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  visit  when  Capt.  Hal  took 
his  hunt,  but  for  several  years,  since  he  had  the  care 
of  Robert  Nelson,  that  pleasure  had  been  debarred 
him,  and  Capt.  Hal  found  out  by  his  manners  that 
Spike  was  getting  dissatisfied  at  not  going  ashore  on 
his  visits  as  he  had  formerly  done,  and  the  man  was 
too  essential  to  him  to  be  offended.  If  Spike  went, 
who  was  to  care  for  the  * ' crazy  loon"  as  he  was  ac- 
customed to  speak  of  Robert. 

After  much  demurring  and  debating  with  himself, 
he  finally  decided  Capt.  Harry  must  have  the  care  of 
the  man.  He  most  earnestly  wished  he  could  make 
some  other  arrangement  but  there  was  no  other.  He 
wasn't  willing  to  forego  his  hunt  nor  to  have  the  care 
of  the  man,  whom  he  shrank  from  coming  into  con- 
tact with,  feeling  always  that  he  had  done  wrong  to 
undertake  the  job  so  skilfully  planned  by  Walter  Bru- 
nette and  for  which  he  was  not  paying  him  as 
promptly  as  he  had  promised. 

Brunette's  last  letter  had  said  he  would  have 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars  and  interest  to  his  credit, 
for  the  three  years  he  had  been  behind,  and  one  year 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS  271 


in  advance.  He  was  on  his  way  to  London  to  get  it. 
So  after  many  instructions  and  precautions  lie  left 
Robert  in  Capt.  Harry's  care  and  lie  and  Spike  went 
ashore. 

Scarcely  were  they  out  of  sight  before  the  door  of 
the  cell  was  thrown  wide  open  and  after  Robert's 
promise  not  to  attempt  to  escape,  he  was  allowed  to 
walk  out  or  to  totter  out,  rather.  No  one  who  had 
seen  Robert  thrust  into  prison  would  have  recognized 
him  as  he  sat  on  deck  that  fine  autumn  day,  gazing 
out  upon  the  waters. 

He  was  pale  and  fearfully  emaciated  in  face  and 
figure.  His  eyes  were  unnaturally  large  and  deeply 
sunken  in  his  head.  His  dark  hair  was  plentifully 
sprinkled  with  gray.  What  a  wreck  of  his  former, 
manly  self  he  was,  but  he  rapidly  improved  during 
Capt.  Hal's  absence. 

He  spent  every  day  and  part  of  the  night  on  deck 
with  Capt.  Harry  who,  without  seeming  to  do  so, 
watched  him  closely.  He  was  locked  in  Capt.  Har- 
ry's room  every  night,  while  that  gentleman  occupied 
his  uncle's. 

The  cell  was  thoroughly  cleaned  and  renovated; 
the  door  stood  open  day  and  night.  A  comfortable 
chair  replaced  the  old  stool.  A  small  table  for  books 
and  flowers  was  added.  To  his  surprise  he  found 
Robert  an  expert  chess-player — a  match,  indeed,  for 
himself,  who  was  accounted  a  worthy  champion  of  the 
game  for  almost  anyone. 

Somehow,  Capt.  Harry's  kindness  awoke  in  Robert 
a  hope  of  release.  He  knew  if  he  ever  became  free 
again  it  would  be  through  that  gentleman's  kindness 
and  influence,  and  the  more  he  knew  of  his  friend, 
the  stronger  became  the  hope. 

As  soon  as  Capt.  Hal  and    Spike    returned,  they 


•272 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


made  for  London,  where  Capt.  Hal  became  furious 
because  "Walter  Brunette  did  not  redeem  his  promise. 

There  was  not  a  dollar  to  his  credit.  He  vowed  ven- 
geance, but  a  profitable  job  taking  him  to  the  East 
Indies  served  to  cool  him  off  for  a  year. 

The  next  year  he  put  in  at  the  appointed  time,  re- 
ceiving but  three  hundred  dollars  and  a  letter  from 
Brunette,  saying  he  was  short  of  money  at  that  time, 
but  would  pay  him  handsomely  for  waiting  another 
year. 

Again  the  old  gentleman  was  very  angry,  but  he 
had  an  elephant  on  his  hands  and  felt  he  could  do 
nothing  but  submit.  So  with  the  best  grace  he  could 
command  he  sailed  away,  in  his  heart  wishing  he  had 
never  seen  Brunette  nor  his  " crazy  loon." 

Again  the  time  for  the  annual  hunt  came  and  Capt. 
Hal  and  Spike  departed  and  Robert's  annual  free- 
dom came,  too. 

Oh,  how  eagerly  he  looked  forward  to  this  relief 
for  his  pent-up  mind  and  body.  He  enjoyed  it  as  a 
hungry  man  relishes  food  or  a  thirsty  man  drink. 

One  fine  night  as  he  and  Capt.  Harry  sat  on  deck, 
in  the  soft  moonlight,  both  smoking  and  thinking, 
Robert  Nelson  suddenly  looked  around  at  his  com- 
panion, and  said: 

"Capt.  Harry,  there  is  a  great  favor  I  wish  you 
would  do  for  me,  one  I  have  wanted  to  ask  you  a  long 
time  and  feared  lest  you  would  deny  me  and  make 
me  more  hopeless  than  I  have  been  since  I  have  known 
you.  You  have  told  me  you  would  do  nothing  to  in- 
terfere with  your  uncle's  plans,  as  you  would  con- 
sider that  dishonorable  to  your  trust.  I  agree  with 
you  and  would  wish  .you  to  do  nothing  that  would 
bring  down  that  gentleman's  anger  upon  you,  but 
what  I  want  you  to  do,  can  in  no  way  injure  your 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS 


273 


uncle,  while  it  will  place  me  right  with  you,  who  have 
been  my  friend  in  my  sore  need.  I  have  told  you  my 
story  and  I  know  you  do  not  believe  me ;  I  think  you 
consider  me  insane  and  my  story  the  creation  of  my 
own  fancy  rather  than  the  truth.  What  I  wish  you 
to  do  is  to  write  to  the  legal  firm  in  H — ,  the  men  who 
have  my  business  in  hand,  and  who  have  known  me 
for  years.  Write  a  letter  in  your  own  name  as  a 
friend  at  my  dictation  asking  about  me  such  ques- 
tions as  wTill  corroborate  or  deny  my  statements  to  you 
in  regard  to  myself. 

Then  write  to  your  uncle's  lawyers  or  bankers  in 
New  York  as  to  the  standing  of  Anderson  and  Budd, 
in  the  city  named,  and  see  what  your  answer  will  be  to 
both  letters.  Will  you  do  this  for  me,  captain?  I 
think  it  but  just  you  should  find  out  for  yourself, 
whether  I  am  true  or  false,  sane  or  insane. ' ' 

Never  did  a  prisoner  under  condemnation  look  more 
eagerly,  more  breathlessly  at  the  judge  who  was  to 
pronounce  the  sentence  of  life  and  death,  than  did 
Robert  Nelson  into  the  face  of  the  man  before  him, 
for  he  felt  it  was  his  only  hope.  He  knew  he  was  get* 
ting  weaker,  that  the  confinement  was  undermining 
his  health.  He  knew  if  he  were  not  released  soon, 
death  would  be  his  release,  and  he  was  so  anxious  to 
know  if  Lillian  was  living.  If  she  was  dead,  he 
wouldn't  care  how  soon  death  came,  for  there  would 
be  nothing  to  live  for  and  he  did  wish  to  know  what 
Avas  thought  of  his  strange  disappearance.  Captain 
Harry,  after  a  few  minutes'  pause,  which  seemed  a 
long  time  to  Robert,  who  was  looking  so  pleadingly 
into  his  face,  said  slowly : 

"I  will  do  as  you  wish.    I  think  it  is  due  you." 

So  the  next  day  Captain  Harry  wrote  the  letter  that 


274 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Robert  dictated,  asking  a  number  of  questions,  among 
them : 

"If  Mrs.  Nelson  was  living,  and,  if  so,  where? 
What  was  thought  of  Robert  Nelson's  sudden  disap- 
pearance ?  If  he  should  return  and  prove  his  identity, 
could  he  not  claim  his  estate,  and  what  would  be  his 
annual  income ?" 

The  letters  were  posted  at  the  next  port  they  en- 
tered and  Robert  anxiously  awaited  the  result  Some- 
times when  Captain  Harry  would  awake  in  the  night 
he  could  hear  Robert  pacing  up  and  down  har  narrow 
inclosure  and  he  knew  his  desire  to  hear  from  the 
letter  kept  him  from  sleeping. 

"Poor  fellow!"  he  would  think;  "he  is  awaiting 
the  death-knell  to  his  hopes.  I  cannot  sound  it.  If 
the  letter  upon  which  he  so  much  depends  comes  to 
blast  his  hopes,  he  will  never  know  it  from  me.  Bet- 
ter he  should  be  constantly  expectant  than  despair- 
ingly certain." 

About  two  weeks  after  they  arrived  at  London,  and 
Captain  Hal  went  at  once  to  see  if  Walter  Brunette 
had  complied  with  his  promise.  He  came  back,  as  we 
have  said,  in  a  towering  rage,  for  there  was  not  a 
dollar  there  to  his  credit.  He  wrote  a  note  to  "Judge 
Allan,"  in  New  Orleans,  as  the  last  letter  from 
Brunette  had  informed  him  he  was  engaged  on  some 
fine  detective  work  in  that  city  nnder  that  name,  and 
would  remain  there  some  time.  He  vowed  he  was 
going  to  let  the  man  loose  at  once  if  he  did  not  send 
him  a  check  for  the  full  amount.  He  ended  by  say- 
ing he  had  threatened  before,  but  he  would  perform 
this  time,  and  he  might  beware  of  the  result,  as  he 
doubted  not  the  fellow  was  desperate  now  and  would 
seek  his  life  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth. 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS 


275 


''That  will  bring  him,"  Captain  Hal  said  to  him- 
self as  he  folded  it.  "He  knows  better  than  not  to 
answer, ' '  and  he  waited  with  as  much  patience  for  a 
reply  as  his  impatient  nature  was  capable  of.  Captain 
Harry  was  expecting  a  letter,  too,  and  more  eagerly 
than  either  of  the  other  two  men.  Eobert  was  ex- 
pecting one.  At  last,  Captain  Harry,  who  made  it 
very  convenient  to  get  all  the  mails  himself,  saw  two 
letters  for  him  with  foreign  postmarks.  Strangely 
enough,  both  had  come  in  the  same  mail.  Going  to 
the  nearest  park,  he  seated  himself  aloof  from  others, 
broke  open  the  letter  and  proceeded  to  read.  Judge 
his  astonishment  when  the  letter  corroborated  every 
statement  Robert  had  made  and  answered  the  last 
questions  as  follows: 

"Mrs.  Nelson  is  living  in  seclusion.  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  tell  where,  as  the  enemy  who  has  ruined  her 
life  still  lives,  and  she  doesn't  wish  him  to  know  her 
whereabouts.  Eobert  Nelson  was  undoubtedly 
drowned,  as  his  body  was  identified  after  several  days 
from  the  coat  containing  his  handkerchief  and  papers. 
Of  course,  if  it  could  be  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that 
he  was  not  drowned,  but  is  still  living,  he  could  claim 
his  property,  the  income  of  which  has  accumulated, 
as  his  wife  has  used  only  the  revenue  from  an  estate 
of  her  own,  until  at  this  time  it  amounts  to  twelve  or 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year.  You  ask  in  what 
estimation  Walter  Brunette  is  held  in  this  neighbor- 
hood. We  can  say  that  if  he  were  to  show  himself 
here  in  his  own  character,  he  would  doubtless  be 
lynched  by  an  infuriated  mob,  so  great  is  the  execra- 
tion in  which  he  is  held  by  those  who  loved  and  es- 
teemed the  Nelson  family  for  their  many  virtues. 
The  story  is  strange,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true. 
Truth,  you  know,  is  often  stranger  than  fiction.  No 


276 


LILLIAN  DeVBRE 


class  of  persons  know  this  better  than  lawyers,  wh© 
have  to  deal  with  the  strange  things  in  real  life. ' ' 

When  Captain  Harry  finished  this  letter  and  read 
the  other,  saying  that  the  firm  he  inquired  about  was 
one  of  the  most  reliable  to  be  found  anywhere,  he  sat 
gazing  at  the  words,  too  surprised  to  credit  the  evi- 
dence of  his  own  senses.  Could  it  be  possible  Robert 
Nelson  was  not  insane,  but  had  been  imprisoned  by 
his  uncle  for  the  sake  of  Walter  Brunette's  money? 
Could  he,  for  the  sake  of  greed,  have  done  such  a 
wicked  thing?  He  knew  his  uncle  was  fond  of  money, 
but  he  did  not  dream  he  would  do  so  dastardly  a  deed. 
The  great  wrong  had  been  committed,  and  it  must  be 
retrieved  as  quickly  as  possible.  But  how?  He 
knew  his  uncle 's  obstinate  nature,  and  that  the  utmost 
caution  would  be  necessary  to  get  him  to  see  things  as 
he  saw  them. 

Captain  Hal  knew  nothing  about  the  prisoner,  and, 
of  course,  felt  no  interest  in  him  save  as  a  source  of 
revenue.  If  he  tried  to  convince  him  of  the  wrong 
he  had  done  an  honorable  gentlei^in,  he  might  be- 
come angry  and  so  guard  the  prisoner  that  he  could 
not  obtain  access  to  him,  wThich  would  make  his  fate 
far  more  intolerable.  He  knew  Robert's  health  was 
failing  and  realized  that  what  was  to  be  done  for  him 
must  be  done  soon,  or  it  would  be  too  late.  For  hours 
he  sat  clasping  the  letters  in  his  hand,  thinking  deeply 
over  the  situation. 

Captain  Harry  was  not  a  religious  man.  He  knew 
very  little  of  practical  religion,  but  in  this  emergency 
he  felt  the  need  of  more  wisdom  than  he  possessed, 
and  there  came  to  him  the  memory  of  his  mother's 
favorite  hymn,  ' '  Take  It  to  the  Lord  in  Prayer, ' '  and 
an  earnest  desire  for  wisdom  came  into  his  heart,  and 
somehow  after  that  he  felt  better  satisfied  that  in 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS 


277 


some  way  Robert  Nelson  would  at  last  regain  bis 
liberty.  That  night  as  he  sat  on  deck  with  his  uncle, 
who  was  awaiting  a  reply  to  his  letter  to  Brunette 
and  chafing  under  the  delay,  Captain  Hal  uninten- 
tionally uttered  his  thoughts  aloud : 

' 'If  Brunette  doesn't  make  haste  and  answer  and 
give  me  satisfaction,  I'll — I'll — " 

"Set  your  prisoner  free,  won't  you?"  Captain 
Harry  finished,  very  quietly,  then  continued  calmly: 

"It's  just  what  you  ought  to  do,  anyway.  Brunette 
has  done  the  man  the  crudest  wrong  one  man  ever  did 
another,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  the  lady  he 
loved  preferred  Nelson  to  himself." 

"Nelson,  indeed!"  the  old  captain  sneered.  "His 
name  is  Dodd.  That  remark  shows  plainly  the  fellow 
has  gulled  you  with  his  crazy  nonsense.  Brunette 
said  he  would  make  up  things  and  tell  them  so 
earnestly  you  wrould  be  forced  to  believe  them  true  if 
you  didn't  know  they  were  false — told  me  to  pay  no 
attention  to  anything  he  said." 

"Yes,  and  that  very  Brunette  is  the  deepest  dyed 
villain  I  ever  heard  of,  and  you  are  his  dupe." 

The  hot  blood  mounted  to  Captain  Hal's  face,  but 
he  laughed  scornfully. 

"You  are  the  dupe  of  a  crazy  man.  I  have  known 
Brunette  for  years,  and  he  is  an  honorable  gentleman, 
went  in  the  best  society  in  New  York,  and  could  have 
married  the  daughter  of  a  millionaire,  a  belle  in 
society.  He  didn't  even  know  this  fellow,  Dodd,  was 
only  employed  as  a  detective  to  get  him  away  from 
danger,  as  I  told  you  before. ' ' 

As  Captain  Harry  proceeded  to  take  some  letters 
out  of  his  pocket,  he  asked : 

"Are  Messrs.  Marshall  and  Brandon,  your  bankers 
in  New  York,  reliable  men?" 


278 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


"Certainly,"  was  Captain  Hal's  answer,  wonder- 
ing what  that  had  to  do  with  the  point  in  question. 

"Then  read  this/7  and  he  handed  his  unele  the 
letter  endorsing  Anderson  and  Budd's  standing. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  Captain  Hal  asked. 

"It  means  that  I  wished  to  find  out  the  truth  or 
falsity  of  the  prisoner's  oft-repeated  statements  and 
wrote  to  the  gentlemen,  his  lawyers,  questioning  them 
about  it.  This  is  their  answer,  which  you  can  read 
for  yourself,  after  having  assured  yourself  of  the 
reliability  of  the  parties." 

Captain  Hal  read  it,  interrupting  himself  fre- 
quently w7ith  expressions  of  astonishment  peculiar  to 
himself.  He  read  it  again  and  again  before  he  was 
able  to  take  it  in. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  he  finally  asked  in  a  loud 
whisper.  "I  don't  understand.  What  does  it  mean, 
Harry?" 

' ;  It  means, ' '  was  the  reply,  ' 4  that  Walter  Brunette, 
the  man  for  which  you  consented  to  undertake  this 
job,  is  as  the  letter  says,  a  most  perfidious  villain,  and 
you  have  helped  him  in  his  nefarious  schemes.  It 
means  that  for  a  little  money  you  have  done  a  great, 
an  unpardonable  wrong.  It  means  that,  for  the  sake 
of  his  ignoble  revenge,  that  scoundrel  has  duped  you 
to  carry  out  the  crudest,  most  inhuman  plot  against 
an  honorable  gentleman  I  have  ever  heard  of.  It 
means  that  for  years  you  have  kept  in  close  confine- 
ment, away  from  his  loved  wife  and  his  home,  a 
wealthy,  cultured,  noble-hearted  gentleman  who  has 
never  in  his  life  in  any  way  done  you  the  least  harm. 
It  means  that  this  terrible  wrong  must  be  righted,  and 
at  once." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  perhaps,  Captain  Hal 
cowered  beneath  a  human  glance,  but  his  eyes  fell 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS 


279 


beneath  the  scornful  words  and  look  of  the  honest 
blue  eyes  gazing  so  steadily  and  fearlessly  into  his 
own.  Finally  he  comprehended  he  had  been  deceived 
by  Brunette,  and  had  helped  him  to  cruelly  wrong  an 
innocent  man.  He  realized  it  was  a  deep  and  well- 
laid  plot,  and  he  had  aided  him  materially  in  carry- 
ing it  out.  Captain  Hal  was  a  rash,  impulsive  man, 
frequently  doing  things  of  which  he  afterwards  saw 
the  folly,  but  was  often  too  obstinate  to  acknowledge 
it.  While  this  was  true,  he  was  a  just  man,  as  he 
termed  justice,  and,  knowing  he  had  done  this  great 
injustice,  he  was  willing  to  undo  it  as  far  as  he  could, 
*o  he  asked  Captain  Harry : 
"What  must  I  do?" 

"Do!  You  must  at  once  open  the  door  you  have 
kept  so  long  shut,  and  let  the  poor  man  come  forth  to 
liberty." 

' 6  He  will  have  me  punished  for  what  I  have  done. ' ' 
"I  think  not.    I  believe  he  will  be  so  eager  to  get 
back  to  loved  ones,  he  will  let  you  go  free.    Let  me 
go  now  and  show  him  the  letters  and  tell  him  he  is 
free." 

That  night  it  was  past  midnight  before  Captain 
Harry  and  Robert  went  to  sleep.  Robert  shared 
Captain  Harry's  room.  He  was  too  happy,  too  ex- 
cited to  sleep.  He  and  Captain  Hal  and  Captain 
Harry  had  talked  it  all  over  that  night  on  deck,  in 
the  soft  moonlight.  Captain  Hal  was  more  repentant 
than  he  had  ever  been  over  anything  in  his  life,  and 
he  acknowledged  it  so  frankly  to  Robert  he  forgave 
him  his  part  in  it,  knowing  it  was  more  Brunette's 
villainly  than  the  old  captain's.  When  he  had  read 
the  letter  about  the  coat  being  found  near  the  cliff, 
he  said  to  Captain  Harry: 

6 1  That  accounts  for  the  fact  that  I  never  could  find 


280  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


the  coat  to  my  suit.  It  had  been  replaced  by  a  sailor's 
jacket.  But,  fortunately  for  me,  they  didn't  take 
this,  which  I  have  kept  secreted  since  I  have  been 
here  and  which  will  help  to  establish  my  identity," 
and  he  handed  to  Captain  Harry  a  very  antique  and 
costly  ring  of  a  very  unique  pattern,  with  "Nelsom" 
carved  very  elaborately  in  it.  It  was  left  by 
the  original  proprietor  of  Randolph  Hall  to  the 
oldest  son  of  every  succeeding  generation.  Surely 
happiness  is  the  best  medicine  for  a  diseased 
mind  or  body.  So  it  proved  with  Robert  Nelson. 
Just  imagine  how  a  prisoner  who  has  been  in  close 
confinement  for  years  feels  when  his  innocence  is 
established  and  he  walks  forth  to  brightness  and 
freedom  again.  Robert  Nelson's  feelings  can  hardly 
be  imagined  when  he  became  an  honored  guest  where 
he  had  for  so  long  suffered  imprisonment.  While 
he  became  strong  enough  to  make  the  voyage  home  a 
close  intimacy  sprang  up  between  him  and  Captain 
Harry,  who  tried  to  atone  in  every  way  he  could  for 
the  irreparable  wrong  that  had  been  done  to  a  man 
who  showed  the  true  nobility  of  his  nature  by  burying 
the  dead  past  and  looking  forward  to  hope  and  hap- 
piness again. 


LILLIAN  AGAIN 


211 


CHAPTER  XLI.  f 

LILLIAN  AGAIN. 

We  must  return  to  Lillian. 

As  she  proceeded  on  her  way  to  Mrs.  Chastine 's  she 
noticed  how  deserted  the  streets  were  and  this  in- 
creased her  trepidation.  "Everybody  must  be  at 
supper/  '  she  thought,  and  this  was  confirmed  as  she 
passed  the  different  houses  and  saw  people  seated  at 
the  table  in  their  brilliantly  lighted  dining-halls. 
There  was  one  place  she  specially  dreaded.  It  was  a 
corner  at  which  one  street  intersected  another.  The 
light  there  had  been  out  of  order  for  several  nights, 
giving  but  a  dim,  uncertain  glimmer.  Mr.  Chastine 
had  remarked  upon  it  the  last  time  they  passed  there. 
She  reached  it  safely  and  was  hurrying  across  the 
street  when  a  quick  footstep  behind  her  caused  her  to 
look  around  suddenly.  As  she  did  so  her  arm  was 
strongly  seized  and  something  applied  to  her  face. 
She  staggered  back  an  instant,  was  caught  in  a  pair  of 
stout  arms  and  lifted  into  some  sort  of  vehicle,  which 
at  that  moment  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

She  had  a  dim  remembrance  of  this,  but  knew  noth- 
ing more  for  several  days.  She  had  a  vague  idea  that 
a  woman's  face  bent  over  at  times  and  that  she  lin- 
gered in  the  room,  but  she  was  in  a  dazed  state  that 
failed  to  take  in  her  surroundings.  Gradually  the 
effect  of  the  drug  passed  off,  and  she  began  to  think, 
and  then  she  felt  confident  she  was  again  the  victim  of 
Walter  Brunette's  wickedness.  Why  had  she  again 
allowed  herself  to  be  entrapped  by  that  villain?  Why 
had  she  not  gone  to  Mrs.  Chastine 's  at  once  and  had 


282  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


him  apprehended  instead  of  attempting  to  flee  like  a 
coward  from  him?  How  had  he  found  her  out? 
Who  could  have  told  him  of  her  plans  to  leave  the 
city  and  thus  enabled  him  to  foil  them?  Could  it 
have  been  Eva,  whom  he  w7as  pretending  to  love  in 
order  to  carry  out  his  designs  against  herself?  Surely 
it  must  be  so.  While  she  realized  she  was  in  her 
enemy's  power,  she  was  not  entirely  disheartened. 
Truly  she  had  too  many  friends  to  search  for  her  to 
be  long  in  his  grasp.  They  would  employ  detectives, 
who  would  surely  find  him  out,  cunning  as  he  was. 
Failing  in  that,  she  had  still  her  own  senses  about  her 
and  ought  to  manage  to  outwit  the  arch-plotter.  She 
must  meet  cunning  with  cunning.  So  she  seemed  to 
be  very  dreamy  and  stupid,  while  she  was  very  wake- 
ful and  on  the  alert.  Whenever  she  heard  a  footstep 
she  shut  her  eyes  as  if  asleep,  and  when  aroused  for 
food  or  drink  put  on  such  a  wild,  dazed  look  as  to 
deceive  her  watcher.  When  she  felt  assured  she  wan 
alone,  she  made  good  use  of  her  senses.  She  found 
she  was  in  a  small  but  nicely  furnished  room,  to 
which  there  was  no  window,  with  a  door  leading  into 
a  narrow  hall.  By  leaning  as  far  as  possible  out  of 
the  bed  she  could  see  there  was  another  door  opposite 
to  the  one  of  the  room  wThich  she  occupied.  One 
morning  she  was  awakened  from  a  longer  and  sounder 
sleep  than  usual  by  a  sort  of  bustle,  as  of  new  ar- 
rivals and  of  trunks  being  brought  in.  Wondering 
Avhat  it  meant,  and  listening  very  intently  to  find  out, 
she  heard  a  woman's  voice  say  in  a  low,  earnest  tone: 

' '  I  am  very  glad,  Miss,  you  have  come.  Mr.  Howell 
told  me  he  had  written  for  you.  The  young  lady 
doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  getting  on  so  well.  She  lies 
in  a  stupor  all  the  time,  and  though  she  has  been  here 
a  week,  notices  nothing.     Sometimes  it  is  hard  to 


LILLIAN  AGAIN 


283 


Arouse  her  to  take  food.  She  appears  to  be  under 
the  influence  of  a  strong  opiate  all  the  time.  I  am 
glad  to  turn  the  care  and  responsibility  of  her  over 
to  you." 

"We'll  soon  get  her  all  right,  I  think.  Aunt  Chloe 
is  a  splendid  nurse,"  answered  a  soft,  sweet  voice. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  Dis  old  nigger  am  a  good  nuss  and 
shore's  you'se  born,  everybody  gits  better  when  she's 
round.  Miss  Evelyn  knows  dat, ' '  came  in  unmistak- 
able African  tones. 

Miss  Evelyn !  Ah,  that  gave  her  some  clue.  Walter 
Brunette  had  found  out  in  some  way  her  identity 
after  receiving  the  letter,  and,  after  missing  it,  and 
judging  she  had  found  it  by  her  sudden  plans  for 
departure,  into  which  no  doubt  Eva  had  led  him,  had 
abducted  her  and  would  probably  insult  her  as  he 
had  formerly  done  by  trying  to  make  her  marry  him 
or  continue  a  prisoner  in  his  power.  She  would  re- 
main a  prisoner  always  before  she  would  listen  to 
such  a  proposal  from  him.  But  she  would  not  submit 
to  such  a  fate  without  making  an  effort  to  escape  it. 
She  felt  assured  Evelyn  Brown  and  one  of  the  trusted 
old  family  servants  had  been  sent  for  to  guard  her, 
and  to  one  of  less  determined  nature  it  would  have 
seemed  hopeless  to  try  even  to  foil  them ;  but  it  was 
worth  the  trial  surely,  and  it  would  never  do  to  give 
up.  So  she  lay  thinking  and  listening,  while  appar- 
ently unconscious.  She  heard  a  stir  going  on  across 
the  hall  and  judged  Evelyn  and  Aunt  Chloe  were  get- 
ting fixed  in  their  new  quarters. 

That  day  at  the  usual  time  for  dinner  a  most  tempt- 
ing tray  was  brought  to  her  bedside.  Assuming  a 
Very  wild  stare  when  aroused,  she  saw  a  very  pretty 
face  looking  pityingly  at  her.  In  that  one  glance  she 
took  in  Evelyn  Brown,   then  assumed  her  former 


284  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


dreamy,  sleepy  attitude.  The  girl,  for  such  she 
seemed,  was  a  pronounced  brunette,  with  small,  deli- 
cate features.  As  she  would  have  roused  a  drowsy 
child,  she  spoke  to  Lillian,  begging  her  to  take  the 
food.  There  was  no  opening  of  the  eyes,  but  a  well- 
assumed  unconsciousness  of  what  she  was  saying, 
though  Lillian's  appetite  called  for  the  dainties  whose 
appetizing  smell  regaled  her  nostrils. 

Miss  Brown  then  proceeded  to  do  just  what  Lillian 
desired,  feed  her,  and  she  received  the  food,  giving  no 
intimation  of  the  satisfaction  it  gave  her.  When  she 
had  enough  she  shut  her  mouth  and  refused  to  take 
any  more.  That  night  and,  indeed,  at  every  meal  for 
weeks,  the  same  process  was  gone  through  with.  The 
first  night  after  their  arrival,  she  heard  a  little  stir 
at  the  door  and  cautiously  opened  her  eyes  just  wide 
enough  to  see  a  large,  fat  negro  woman,  with  her  head 
crowned  with  a  red  bandana  handkerchief,  bringing 
into  the  room  an  easy  chair,  large  enough  to  accom- 
modate even  her  huge  proportions.  There  was  a 
whispered  colloquy  at  the  door,  then  Aunt  Chloe  came 
and  seated  herself  in  the  chair  opposite,  where  she 
could  watch  her  every  movement  by  the  dim  shaded 
light.  To  escape  the  woman's  curious  gaze  she 
turned  from  her  and  was  soon  asleep.  After  this  one 
or  the  other  of  her  keepers  watched  over  her  every 
night. 

One  morning  when  she  awoke  she  heard  some  per- 
sons talking  very  low  but  earnestly  in  the  room  op- 
posite. The  door  of  her  room  was  slightly  ajar. 
Thinking  they  must  be  talking  of  her,  she  slipped 
from  the  bed,  and  as  softly  as  possible,  stole  behind 
the  door,  applied  her  ear  to  the  crevice  and  listened 
intently.  She  heard  a  voice  which  she  at  once  recog- 
nized as  Walter  Brunette's. 


LILLIAN  AGAIN 


285 


"She  will  come  all  right  in  time.  She  is  very 
healthy  and  its  only  the  effect  of  the  opiates  which 
will  pass  away  gradually.  ' ' 

"But,  Walter,  she  has  been  in  that  condition  so  long 
— nearly  two  weeks,  and  I  see  no  change  for  the  better. 
She  takes  no  notice  of  anything;  has  to  be  fed  like 
a  baby.  I  think  you  had  better  call  in  a  physician. 
I  don't  want  her  death  on  my  hands.' ' 

"No,  no,  Evelyn;  it's  only  because  she  has  never 
been  accustomed  to  opiates.  Be  patient  and  as  soon  as 
she  recovers  consciousness  fully  and  asks  about  her 
being  here,  put  her  off  until  I  come  and  I  will  ex- 
plain the  situation  to  her  and  reveal  to  her  my  plans 
regarding  her.  Good-bye,  my  brave  little  cousin,  you 
have  always  been  as  true  as  steel  to  me  and  my  inter- 
ests. Be  true  to  this  trust  a  little  while  longer,  dear, 
and  you  will  have  my  deepest  gratitude  and  love. ' ' 

Lillian  stole  back  to  bed.  She  had  found  out  be- 
yond a  doubt  that  she  was  again  the  victim  of  Walter 
Brunette's  perfidy,  and  that  her  ideas  of  his  plot  were 
correct.  She  knew,  too,  she  was  deceiving  Evelyn 
Brown  as  to  her  real  state. 

Day  after  day  went  by.  She  knew  she  had  been  im- 
prisoned nearly  a  month.  How  long  it  seemed  since 
that  night  she  started  to  Mrs.  Chastine's!  What  did 
her  friends  think  of  her  disappearing  so  suddenly 
and  strangely.  She  wondered  if  she  was  still  in  the 
city  or,  if  not,  where? 

One  evening  she  heard  Miss  Brown  say : 

"I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can.  Watch  the  lady 
carefully  and  give  her  water,  if  she  wTakes.  It  is 
warm  this  evening. ' ' 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  and  Aunt  Chloe  had  seated 
her  capacious  self  in  the  large  arm-chair,  Lillian 
threw  off  all  appearance  of  stupor  and  said  quietly: 


286 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


6  '  Open  the  door  wide,  Aunt  Chloe,  I  am  almost  suf- 
focating. ' ' 

While  the  negress  in  surprise  obeyed,  Lillian  pushed 
back  the  curls  from  her  forehead  and  looked  with 
wide  open  eyes  at  the  woman,  who  on  her  return  to 
the  bedside,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  mingled  aston- 
ishment and  horror. 

"May  the  Lord  save  me  alive.  It's  her  sperit,  as  I 
live.    I'se  been  thinking  so  all  along." 

Approaching  close  to  the  bed  she  asked  in  a  loud 
whisper : 

"Is  you  her  sperit,  honey?" 

"Whose  spirit?"  asked  Lillian. 

"Miss  Lillian  Dare  Bear's.  I  seed  her  two  or  three 
times,  and  you'se  pint  blank  liks  her.  Is  you  her 
sperit,  honey?" 

Lillian  caught  on  at  once. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  solemnly,  "I  am  Lillian  De 
Vere's  spirit  and  to  prove  it,  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
her.  Listen !  She  used  to  live  with  Mrs.  Stafford  at 
a  sweet  place  called  Moss  Side.  She  married  Mr. 
Robert  Nelson  of  Randolph  Hall.  Someone,  I  know 
who,  because  I'm  a  spirit,  you  knowT,  shot  him  once 
while  he  was  walking  with  his  wife.  It  killed  his  sis- 
ter, Helen,  and  made  his  wife  so  sick  she  lost  all  her 
dark  hair,  and  afterwards  had  real  white  hair.  Then 
this  same  man  drowned  her  husband  and  she  went 
away  from  the  Hall  to  a  place  on  the  seaside.  She 
fell  over  a  cliff,  then  I  became  her  spirit  to  punish 
Walter  Brunette  for  his;  crimes,  which  I  will  do  yet, 
tho'  he  seems  now  to  have  me  in  his  power.  Not 
knowing  I  was  a  spirit  he  brought  me  here  and  wrote 
for  his  cousin,  Miss  Evelyn  Brown,  and  you,  Aunt 
Chloe,  to  nurse  me.  You  see,  I  know  all.  Now  I 
have  told  you,  you  must  promise  not  to  tell  anybody 


LILLIAN  AGAIN 


287 


what  I  have  told  you  lest  something  mighty  bad  hap- 
pen to  you.    Will  you  promise  ? ' ' 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  old  negro's 
expression  as  Lillian  uttered  these  words.  Fear  and 
awe  wrere  curiously  blended.  Had  she  possessed  the 
power  of  moving,  she  would  probably  have  fled  from 
the  room,  but  she  sat  trembling  in  every  limb,  gaz- 
ing at  Lillian  with  utter  astonishment  on  her  round, 
sleek,  black  face.  Her  mouth  and  eyes  were  stretched 
to  their  fullest  extent.  Naturally  superstitious  and 
credulous  she  did  not,  in  the  least,  doubt  the  truth  of 
Lillian's  statement.  During  her  recital,  she  had  in- 
terrupted her  with  such  expressions  as  

"May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us,  poor  sinners;  I 
been  sayin'  so  all  de  time.  De  Lord  won't  always 
keep  his  anger.  Folks  can't  mistreat  t'other  folks 
and  not  'spect  to  be  punished." 

When  Lillian  exacted  the  promise  of  silence  from 
her,  she  exclaimed: 

"J  'clare  fore  gracious,  I'll  never  tell  nobody  not 
one  word  you  say,  not  even  Miss  Evelyn,  who  said 
I  musn't  tell  you  nothing  in  the  world  if  you  axed 
me,  and  fore  gracious  you  knows  everything  we  knows 
and  everything  else  besides.  No,  Mrs.  Sperit,  I'll 
make  the  sign  of  a  cross  on  my  bosom,  this  way,  that 
I  won't  tell  nothin'  you  say,  and  you  may  'bleve  I 
wont.  Yes,  Mrs.  Sperit,  I  always  said  the  Lord 
would  punish  Marse  Walter  for  treating  Miss  Lillian 
that  way,  but  I  didn't  know  he'd  send  her  sperit  back 
to  yearth  agin  to  do  it.  Ah,  'twont  do  to  go  agin  the 
Lord's  ways." 

"It  will  soon  be  Christmas,"  Lillian  said,  with  a 
view  of  finding  out  just  how  long  she  had  been  there. 

"Yes,  honey,  Mrs.  Sperit,  I  mean,  one  week  next 
Wednesday  will  be  Christmas." 


288 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


4 i Well,"  Lillian  said,  very  seriously,  "the  Lord 
doesn't  disclose  his  plans  to  me  a  long  ways  off,  but 
I  think  he  means  I  shall  leave  this  place  by  that 
time." 

"I  spect  you  will,  for  bein'  a  sperit,  you  can  go 
through  a  keyhole  when  he  says  so. "  Then  she  asked : 
4 1  Mrs.  Sperit,  why  don't  you  tell  Miss  Evelyn  you'se 
a  sperit,  and  she  wouldn't  try  to  keep  you.  She 
thinks  you'se  a  young  widder  woman  that  Marse  Wal- 
ter wants  her  and  me  to  nuss  for  awhile.  Then  you 
and  he,  ole  Miss,  Miss  Evelyn  and  me  is  gwine  way 
off  and  live  mighty  happy,  Marse  Walter  says." 

"Are  you  willing  to  go  way  off  and  leave  your 
folks?" 

"Yes,  honey,  you  see,  I'se  Miss  Evelyn's  mammy, 
nussed  her  after  her  ma  died  and  I  loves  her  like  she 
was  my  own  baby.  She  is  a  good  girl,  and  would 
try  to  do  nothin'  gin  a  sperit  if  she  knowed  it." 

"But  she  mustn't  know  it.  It  won't  do  for  her 
to  know  it,  nor  anybody  else,  but  me  and  you.  You 
must  do  just  as  I  tell  you  and  then  you  won't  be  pun- 
ished." 

"That  I  will,  Mrs.  Sperit,  I'll  do  anything  you 
say." 

"Have  you  the  key  of  the  outside  door?" 
"No,  honey;  Miss  Evelyn  always  locks  us  up  and 
takes  it  with  her. 

"Couldn't  you  get  out  of  the  window  and  get  me 
some  fresh  water?" 

"No,  honey,  every  window  is  nailed  down  tight,  so 
no  one  can't  get  out  nor  come  in." 

"Do  you  know  what  city  you  and  Miss  Evelyn  came 
to  when  Walter  Brunette  wrote  you  to  come?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  New  'leans.    That's  where  we  is 


LILLIAN  AGAIN 


289 


now,  only  we'se  way  off  the  street-car  line,  Miss  Eve- 
lyn says." 

"How  do  you  like  'New  leans'?" 

"I  don't  like  it  so  mighty  much,  'cept  I  ken  go  bare- 
footed all  the  time  here,  and  I  can  't  at  home,  'cause 
its  too  cold." 

Just  then  Miss  Brown  was  heard  approaching  and 
with  another  caution  to  Aunt  Chloe,  Lillian  resumed 
her  usual  languid  attitude  and  the  old  woman  felt 
no  scruples  of  conscience,  for  saying,  when  asked 
about  the  patient,  that  she  had  been  "sleep  all  the 
time." 


290  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE. 

After  the  above  recorded  conversation  between  Lil- 
lian and  Aunt  Chloe,  the  woman  evinced  the  greatest 
fear  and  awe  of  Lillian.  She  begged  Miss  Evelyn 
not  to  make  her  sit  up  alone  with  the  sick  lady,  and 
when  questioned  as  to  her  reason,  after  many  evasive 
replies,  said  she  believed  Mrs.  Sperit  was  going  to 
die,  and  she  didn't  want  to  be  in  the  room  by  herself. 

She  called  Lillian  Mrs.  Sperit  all  the  time  now,  and 
when  Miss  Evelyn  asked  her  why  she  called  her  so, 
she  said  it  was  because  the  lady  looked  so  pale  and 
white,  4 'jest  like  a  sperit." 

For  two  or  three  nights  her  indulgent  mistress 
humored  her  and  sat  up  herself,  thinking  the  old 
woman  who  had  to  cook  as  well  as  nurse,  had  become 
tired  and  wanted  to  rest. 

Then  she  insisted  " mammy"  should  let  her  sleep 
some,  as  she  was  completely  worn  out  for  want  of 
sleep  and  rest,  and  Aunt  Chloe,  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling, took  her  usual  place  at  Lillian's  bedside. 

Lillian  fell  into  a  gentle  slumber  in  which  sweet 
dreams  of  other  days  came  to  her.  She  thought  she 
was  again  at  Randolph  Hall  with  Robert  by  her  side, 
talking  to  her  lovingly,  and  caressing  her  fondly. 
She  dreamed  the  sunlight  rested  upon  the  Hall  as 
brightly  as  it  did  before  the  shadows  fell  and  when 
Robert  started  to  leave  her,  she  held  out  her  arms  and 
begged  him  never  to  leave  her  again.  She  awoke  with 
the  name  of  Robert  upon  her  lips  and  the  tears  sprang 


LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE 


291 


to  her  eyes  as  tender  memories  came  to  her  of  her 
noble  husband's  untimely  end. 

Reflecting  upon  her  sad  and  strange  past,  she  be- 
came very  restless  and  sleepless.  Try  as  hard  as  she 
would,  she  couldn't  compose  herself  to  sleep.  It  was 
very  warm  and  the  doors  between  the  two  rooms  and 
hall  were  left  open,  letting  the  moonlight  stream  into 
the  room,  bringing  to  her  messages  of  friends  out- 
side her  prison. 

Aunt  Chloe  snored  loudly  in  the  easy  chair.  She 
knew  Miss  Brown  was  resting  well,  for  she  had  sat  up 
for  three  nights,  writing,  reading  and  watching  and 
she  was  very  quiet  now. 

Presently  the  clock  striking  eleven  arrested  her 
thoughts.  Aunt  Chloe  stirred  uneasily  and  Lillian 
put  her  hand  on  her  arm,  which  awakened  her.  Lean- 
ing over  to  her  she  whispered,  softly: 

' '  Aunt  Chloe,  go  get  me  some  fresh  water  from  the 
well;  I  am  so  thirsty,  I  can't  go  to  sleep." 

"I  can't,  Miss,"  Aunt  Chloe  whispered  back. 
"Miss  Evelyn's  got  the  key  under  her  head  and  she'd 
be  mad  if  I  waked  her  up." 

1 1  Can 't  you  slip  your  hand  under  the  pillow  and  get 
the  key?  She  is  sleeping  so  soundly.  I  want  some 
fresh  water  and  I  don't  want  to  punish  you  for  not 
minding  a  spirit. ' ' 

Ah,  now  she  had  struck  the  right  chord.  The  old 
woman  looked  at  Lillian  in  a  frightened  awe-struck 
way.  The  moonlight  falling  over  her  pale  face  gave 
her  a  strange,  weird  look,  not  unlike  the  spirit  Aunt 
Chloe  believed  her.  As  with  dilated  eyes  and  bated 
breath  she  gazed  at  Mrs.  Sperit,  her  memory  car- 
ried her  back  to  the  day,  many  years  ago,  when  she 
had  seen  Lillian  De  Vere  at  Anston,  and  some  one  had 
told  her  she  was  "Marse  Walter's  sweetheart."  She 


292 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


had  thought  then  she  had  never  seen  anyone  half  so 
beautiful. 

" Shore,  she's  lubly  as  an  angel/ '  had  been  her  ex- 
clamation then,  and  just  as  lovely  Lillian  seemed 
now,  as  with  the  dark  hair  thrown  from  her  face,  the 
large,  dark  eyes  looked  into  her  own  so  pleadingly. 

She  was  dressed  in  white  that  day  and  her  being 
all  in  Avhite  now  made  the  resemblance  between 
the  two  complete  and  striking.  How  could  she  re- 
fuse to  obey  a  sperit? 

If  she  didn't  give  her  the  water  and  she  should  die, 
or  float  back  to  the  "spirit  land,"  she  might  "bant" 
her  all  her  life.    She  couldn't  stand  that  thought. 

Rising  she  tiptoed  into  Miss  Evelyn's  room  and 
stealthily  felt  for  the  key.  Aunt  Chloe  was  too  used 
to  taking  things  "on  the  sly"  not  to  know  just  how 
to  proceed.  She  had  a  plausible  story  fixed  up  if 
Miss  Evelyn  should  awaken  and  find  her  there.  But 
that  lady  was  sleeping  too  soundly  to  be  awakened 
easily,  and  after  a  few  minutes  the  old  negress  re- 
turned to  the  door  and  held  up  the  key  to  Lillian,  with 
a  broad  grin  at  her  success,  who  smiled  at  her  encour- 
agingly. 

She  did  not  lock  the  door  behind  her,  from  fear  of 
waking  Miss  Evelyn,  and  she  walked  slowly  in  the 
moonlight,  which  made  every  object  as  bright  as  day. 

It  is  probable  not  even  the  fear  of  after  punishment 
could  have  induced  her  to  come  a  dark  night,  as  she 
was  easily  frightened  by  the  dark.  But  it  was  so 
bright,  and  then  she  thought  she  would  take  a  dip  of 
snuff,  of  which  she  was  specially  fond,  but  which  Miss 
Evelyn  forbade  her  to  use,  and  she  had  to  be  very 
careful  not  to  be  found  out. 

The  well  was  a  public  one,  not  very  near  any  house. 
Seating  herself  on  a  trough,  which  had  been  placed 


LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE 


293 


there  for  the  purpose  of  watering  horses,  she  indulged 
in  the  luxury  of  the  snuff-dipping  without  fear  of 
anyone  molesting  her  or  making  her  afraid. 

Not  a  soul  was  in  sight.  The  few  houses,  separated 
some  distance  from  each  other,  gave  no  evidence  of 
being  inhabitated.  Having  leisurely  finished  her 
"dip,"  and  pumped  the  water,  she  returned  to  the 
house,  locked  the  door  with  as  little  noise  as  possible, 
carefully  put  the  key  to  its  place,  and  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  carried  the  water  to  Lillian's  room  to  find  the 
bed  and  room  unoccupied. 

For  a  moment  she  stared  in  blank  astonishment  at 
the  empty  bed  and  then  a  piercing  scream  rent  the 
midnight  air,  rousing  Miss  Brown  from  her  sound 
sleep. 

Hastening  to  the  room,  she  saw  Aunt  Chloe  prone 
on  the  floor,  making  the  most  awful  groans. 

"What's  the  matter,  mammy?  and  where  is  Mrs. 
Devereux  ? ' ' 

"She's  done  flew  away,  Miss  Evelyn.  I  said  she'd 
go  jest  that  way.  She  done  tole  me  she  was  Miss 
Lilliun  Dare  Bear's  sperit  and  now  she  done  gone 
way  through  the  keyhole. ' ' 

Miss  Brown  looked  aghast. 

"What  do  you  mean?  Where  is  the  lady?  Tell 
me  at  once,  mammy,  and  hush  your  foolishness. ' ' 

There  was  anger  and  determination  in  the  tone  that 
Aunt  Chloe  knew  wrell.  She  saw  that  her  young  mis- 
tress was  pale  with  excitement  and  surprise.  It 
would  never  do  to  tell  her  the  truth.  To  feign  ignor- 
ance was  the  only  recourse  left  her.  Looking  up 
from  the  sitting  posture  she  had  assumed,  she  said,  in 
trembling  accents,  rocking  herself  from  side  to  side: 

"I  'clare  'fore  gracious,  Miss  Evelyn,  I  don't  know 
whar  she  is.    I  jest  fell  asleep  a  little  while,  I  was 


294 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


so  tired.  I  jest  loss  myself  a  little  minute  and  when 
I  waked  up  she  was  gone.  I  looked  under  the  bed 
and  in  the  wardrobe  and  every  where ;  then  I  tried  the 
window  in  your  room  and  that  was  nailed,  and  I  went 
to  the  door  and  dat  was  locked.  Den  I  jest  screamed, 
'cause  I  knowed  she  was  a  spirit  jest  like  she  said  she 
was. ' ' 

Miss  Brown,  finding  she  would  be  able  to  get  no 
satisfaction  from  Aunt  Chloe,  after  finding  the  win- 
dow secure  and  the  door  locked,  began  to  search  in 
every  conceivable  and  inconceivable  place,  as  we  are 
apt  to  do  when  we  lose  anything  we  value.  Her 
search  proving  unsuccessful,  she  sat  down  for  a 
few  minutes  to  study  what  steps  she  should  take  to 
recover  the  fugitive.  The  thought  that  would  in- 
trude was: 

"What  will  Walter  say?  He  cautioned  us  not  to 
let  her  get  out  of  our  sight  a  minute.  Where  could 
she  be?"  In  great  perplexity  and  excitement,  she 
asked  herself  this  question  over  and  over  again. 

Not  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  crossed  her  mind.  She 
knew  "mammy"  was  superstitious  and  untruthful, 
when  it  suited  her  to  be  so,  but  she  did  not  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt  her  allegiance  to  the  family  and  had  the 
utmost  confidence  in  her  statement. 

She  had  no  idea  "mammy"  knew  where  she  hid  the 
key,  but  "mammy"  though  she  boasted  she  always 
minded  her  own  business  and  let  other  "folkes"  alone 
and  put  on  a  very  indifferent  air  about  things  that 
did  not  concern  her,  at  the  same  time  was  full  of  cu- 
riosity about  anything  that  she  knew  was  kept  from 
her  and  by  some  means  or  other  rarely  failed  to  find 
out  the  secret. 

She  had  watched  Miss  Evelyn  one  night  through 


LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE  295 


the  crevice  in  the  door  and  had  chuckled  at  her  knowl- 
edge : 

' '  White  folkes  think  they'se  mighty  smart,  but  they 
can't  git  way  with  dis  ole  nigger,  shore  thing,"  she 
thought. 

Evelyn  Brown  was  not  a  person  to  give  up  easily, 
In  a  much  shorter  time  than  it  has  taken  us  to  describe 
her  consternation  at  finding  Lillian  gone,  she  had 
made  her  search  and  decided  what  to  do.  Her  first 
proceeding  was  to  knock  loudly  at  the  door  that  sepa- 
rated her  apartments  from  the  front  of  the  house, 
occupied  by  another  family. 

4 'Who's  that?"  came  in  a  man's  quick  tone. 

4  'It  is  I,  Mr.  Snow.  The  sick  lady  has  gotten  off 
somewhere  and  I  wish  you  would  help  me  find  her." 

' '  Certainly,  I  will, ' '  was  the  answer. 

A  minute  after  the  door  was  unlocked  and  a 
woman,  pale  and  excited,  appeared  on  the  scene. 
While  Miss  Evelyn  dressed  for  her  search  on  the 
street,  she  told  Mrs.  Snow  of  the  mysterious  occur- 
rence. 

"I  think  her  mind  has  been  wandering  several 
days, ' '  Miss  Brown  said.  4 '  She  has  been  talking  very 
strangely  to  Aunt  Chloe.  It  must  be  mental  aberra- 
tion, but  I  can't  conceive,  for  my  life,  how  she  could 
have  gotten  out  of  the  house." 

"It  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  Mrs. 
Snow  said,  while  Aunt  Chloe,  who  was  still  grunting 
.and  groaning,  said : 

"She  tole  me  she  was  a  sperit  and  a  sperit  can  git 
outen  any  whar.  She  got  outen  that  keyhole,  dat's 
whar  she  got  out,  and  you  won't  find  her,  nuther,  ef 
you  look  for  her  all  night. ' ' 

And  so  it  proved;  but  we  must  go  back  to  Lillian. 
When  she  first  proposed  to  the  old  woman  to  go  for 


296 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


the  water,  it  was  because  she  was  thirsty  and  thought 
some  fresh  water  might  compose  her  to  sleep.  When 
Aunt  Chloe  held  up  the  key  exultingly  to  her,  a  wild 
hope  came  to  Lillian  that  she  might,  with  the  careless- 
ness characteristic  of  her  race,  leave  the  door  un- 
locked. If  so,  she  would  try  to  escape.  With  imtense 
excitement  she  listened  and  found  she  had  not  locked 
it,  by  the  stream  of  moonlight  that  came  from  the 
little  space  left  open. 

Once  during  Miss  Brown's  absence  she  had  sent 
Aunt  Chloe  to  the  rear  of  the  house  on  an  errand, 
and,  while  she  was  gone,  had  explored  the  room,  to 
find  the  dress,  hat  and  slippers  she  had  worn  when 
brought  there,  in  the  wardrobe.  Even  her  purse, 
which  she  had  in  a  secret  pocket,  had  not  been  re- 
moved. She  had  hidden  that.  As  soon  as  she  found 
out  the  door  was  open  she  sprang  from  the  bed, 
dressed  with  all  the  haste  of  desperation,  took  her 
slippers  in  her  hand  and  glided  through  the  hall  and 
out  of  the  door  into  the  moonlight  as  noiselessly  as 
the  spirit  Aunt  Chloe  believed  her. 

One  glance  showed  her  the  old  woman  and  the  well. 
Taking  an  opposite  direction,  and  keeping  the  house 
between  her  and  Aunt  Chloe,  she  put  on  her  slippers 
and  sped  rapidly  on,  with  no  object  in  view  save  to 
widen  the  distance  between  her  enemies  and  herself. 
She  passed  several  large  houses,  which  she  correctly 
surmised  were  manufactories,  and  the  small  house* 
the  homes  of  the  operatives. 

How  still  everything  was !  No  one  was  to  be  seen. 
Almost  exhausted  with  her  rapid  flight,  she  was  about 
to  seek  some  secluded  place  to  rest  when  the  sight  of 
a  man,  who  had  doubtless  seen  her,  decided  her  as  to 
her  future  course,    Almost  breathless  with  fatigue 


LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE 


297 


and  excitement  she  approached  him,  and  with  one 
look  into  his  face,  which  reassured  her,  she  said : 

* '  Oh,  sir,  protect  me.  My  enemies,  who  have  great- 
ly wronged  me,  will  pursue  me,  and,  if  they  can,  will 
take  me  back  to  a  fate  worse  than  death.  If  you  will 
get  me  a  conveyance  of  any  kind,  I  will  reward  you 
well  for  your  trouble/' 

Now,  Jack  Philips,  private  watchman  for  the 
4 '  Siegel  Shops  Company, ' '  had  been  walking  with  his 
head  bent  down,  and  was  so  deeply  engrossed  in 
gloomy  thoughts  of  the  mortgage  that  was  threatening 
the  loss  of  his  little  home,  he  had  not  seen  nor  heard 
Lillian 's  approach.  Policemen  who  have  been  long  in 
the  service  are  always  on  the  lookout  for  adventures, 
and  are,  therefore,  prepared  to  meet  them;  but  Jack 
Philips  had  only  been  a  watchman  two  weeks,  and  to 
say  he  was  startled  at  Lillian's  sudden  appearance, 
brave  man  though  he  was,  but  poorly  expresses  the 
feelings  with  which  he  regarded  the  lovely  apparition 
that  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  bathed  in  the  soft  radi- 
ance of  moonlight,  stood  before  him,  and  with 
sweetest,  most  musical  voice,  with  large,  dark,  beseech- 
ing eyes  raised  to  his,  made  her  impassioned  plea  for 
protection.  For  a  few  minutes  he  was  bewildered, 
then  with  a  strong  effort  he  pulled  his  wits  together 
and  said  most  respectfully : 

"I  am  very  sorry,  madame,  I  cannot  do  you  the 
favor  you  ask.  I  am  a  private  watchman  and  cannot 
leave  my  post,  else  I  would  most  gladly  render  you 
any  assistance  in  my  power." 

"I  thank  you,"  was  the  gentle  reply.  <fDo  you 
know  anyone  near,  any  nice  respectable  family  who 
would  receive  me  into  their  home  for  the  night.  I 
am  so  fatigued  I  cannot  go  much  farther  tonight;  I 
will  pay  anyone  well  for  a  night's  lodging." 


298 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


After  a  moment's  hesitation  and  a  keen  look  into 
the  beautiful  eyes,  which  looked  back  into  his  own  so 
pleadingly  and  honestly,  he  said : 

4 1 1  have  a  friend,  a  Mr.  Samuel  Marks,  who,  I  think, 
would  befriend  you  for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
We  can  but  try.  He  lives  in  the  third  house  from 
here." 

As  the  man  guided  her  to  the  place  referred  to,  she 
said : 

44  Will  you  tell  me  your  name,  that  I  may  know  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  this  kindness?'' 

"My  name  is  John  Philips,  ma'am." 

4 'Thank  you,"  she  said;  aI  am  Mrs.  Robert  Nel- 
son. Mr.  Philips,  will  you  promise  me,  under  no  cir- 
cumstances, to  betray  me  should  I  be  pursued  ?  They 
will  probably  tell  you  I  am  insane  or  something  to 
that  effect  to  induce  you  to  betray  me,  but  be  faithful 
to  me  and  tomorrow  will  prove  my  statements  to  you 
to  be  absolutely  true  and  you  will  never  regret  aid- 
ing me." 

As  she  uttered  these  words  Jack  gave  her  a  search- 
ing look,  which  must  have  satisfied  him  as  to  her 
mental  soundness,  for  he  promised,  and,  having  by  this 
time  reached  their  destination,  he  rapped  loudly  at 
the  door,  while  Lillian  gazed  down  the  street  with  fear 
and  trembling,  lest  she  should  see  some  one  coming 
to  carry  her  back.  She  had  determined  not  to  be  car- 
ried back  unless  force  and  drugs  were  employed,  aa 
before ;  but  she  wished,  if  possible,  to  avoid  the  pub- 
licity of  such  a  scene  as  would  ensue,  and,  knowing 
the  determination  of  those  with  whom  she  had  to  deal, 
she  feared  the  result  for  herself. 

1 ' Who's  there?"  was  the  quick  reply  to  the  sum- 
mons. 

"Jack  Philips!    A  lady  wants  to  see  you," 


LILLIAN'S  ESCAPE 


299 


In  her  heart  Lillian  thanked  him  for  thinking  her 
a  lady.    The  man  soon  appeared. 

' 'Mr.  Marks,  Mrs.  Nelson.  Mrs.  Nelson  will  ex- 
plain ;  I  must  return  to  my  post.    Good-night. ' ' 

Most  gladly  availing  herself  of  the  invitation  to 
enter,  she  was  met  in  the  hall  by  Mrs.  Marks,  who 
was  anxious  to  know  what  this  meant.  Lillian  told 
them  substantially  what  she  had  told  Mr.  Philips,  and 
asked  to  spend  the  night,  as  she  supposed  it  was  too 
late  to  get  a  conveyance.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marks  con- 
sented to  accommodate  her,  and  Lillian  asked  Mr. 
Marks  if  he  could  get  her  a  carriage  early  in  the 
morning. 

"I  could  do  so,  ma'am,  but  I  have  to  go  to  my  work 
by  six  o'clock/' 

' '  Could  you  not  get  off  for  a  few  hours  ?  I  would 
pay  you  much  more  than  you  would  lose." 

Mr.  Marks  said  he  would  try,  and  Mrs.  Marks  soon 
ushered  her  into  a  very  scantily  furnished  room,  say- 
ing apologetically: 

"I  wish  I  could  accommodate  you  better,  but  Sam 
and  I  are  just  married,  and  we  will  have  to  get  fixed 
by  degrees." 

Lillkm,  with  a  most  grateful  smile,  assured  her  her 
accommodations  were  amply  sufficient  for  her  com- 
fort. She  tried  hard  to  sleep,  but  the  excitement  was 
too  great  until  about  day,  when  she  fell  off  into  a 
troubled  sleep,  in  which  Walter  Brunette  had  had  her 
arrested  as  insane  and  carried  back  to  her  place  of 
confinement. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  she  awoke.  Mrs. 
Marks  brought  her  a  plain  but  well-cooked  breakfast, 
to  which  she  did  justice.  With  daylight  had  come 
hope  and  a  feeling  of  security  from  danger,  and  a 


300 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


bright  anticipation  of  the  pleasure  of  soon  meeting  her 
friends  shone  in  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Marks  got  off  from  his  work  on  the  score  of 
important  business,  and  was  soon  on  the  street  cars 
to  get  a  carriage.  Lillian  had  asked  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Marks  to  ride  with  her  to  Mrs.  Chastine 's,  that  she 
might  prove  the  truth  of  what  she  had  told  them,  and 
they  consented.  Hidden  beneath  a  thick  veil,  bor- 
rowed from  Mrs.  Marks,  she  and  her  friends  in  need 
were  soon  on  their  way  to  her  friends.  For  miles 
they  pursued  their  way  through  streets  busy  with 
the  bustle  of  trade  for  Christmas.  Then  through 
more  quiet  streets,  until  at  last  Mrs.  Chastine 's  resi- 
dence came  in  sight. 

' 4  Oh,  I 'm  safe  now, ' '  she  exclaimed,  and  very  soon 
she  was  receiving  a  most  enthusiastic  greeting  from 
her  equally  surprised  and  delighted  friends.  Every 
attention  and  courtesy  was  showered  upon  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Marks  for  their  kindness  to  Lillian  during  their 
short  stay,  and  when  they  left  Lillian  slipped  a  note 
into  Mr.  Marks'  hand  and  another  into  that  of  his 
wife,  and  they  departed,  feeling  they  had  entertained 
an  angel  unawares. 

After  Lillian  had  told  her  story,  Mrs.  Chastine 
told  her  to  prepare  herself  for  happiness  as  great  as 
the  trouble  she  had  borne.  They  told  her  of  Mr.  Nel- 
son 's  return  and  of  his  great  grief  at  her  mysterious 
disappearance. 

"Walter  Brunette  is  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  he  had 
said  in  the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment,  "and  I 
will  never  rest  satisfied  until  I  see  him  hung. 1 9 

He  had  left  New  Orleans  a  few  days  before  to  go 
to  New  York  to  employ  the  best  detectives  there  to 
work  up  the  case. 


CAUGHT  AT  LAST  301 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

CAUGHT  AT  LAST. 

On  the  same  morning  of  Lillian's  return  to  her 
friends,  Judge  Allan  sat  in  his  room  in  his  favorite 
posture,  reclining  in  an  easy  chair,  with  his  feet  on  a 
table,  the  smoke  of  his  cigar  circling  over  his  head. 
He  was  thinking  of  Mrs.  Devereux,  who  was  never 
out  of  his  mind  when  alone.  AVherever  he  was  his 
thoughts  always  reverted  to  her.  He  did  not  deem  it 
prudent  to  go  often  to  the  cottage,  but  Evelyn  had 
kept  her  promise  of  keeping  him  posted  in  regard  to 
the  condition  of  his  fair  prisoner.  A  letter  received 
from  her  the  evening  before  had  stated  that  she 
seemed  conscious,  but  remained  as  quiet  as  ever,  mak- 
ing no  comments  and  asking  no  questions. 

44 Her  appetite  is  better, "  his  cousin  wrote,  "and 
altogether  her  condition  is  more  favorable  than  it  has 
been.  I  hope  she  will  soon  be  well,  and  you  will 
make  some  disposal  of  her,  as  I  feel  so  keenly  the 
responsibility  you  have  imposed  upon  me.  Strangely 
enough,  mammy  thinks  she  is  Lillian  De  Vere's  spirit 
and  is  so  afraid  of  her  I  have  watched  three  nights  in 
succession  to  rest  her  and  reconcile  her  to  her  usual 
watch  of  every  alternate  night,  so  I  am  alone  tonight. 
The  patient  is  resting  well,  and  I  am  sure  mammy  is, 
for  I  hear  her  loud  snore.  Tomorrow  night  she  must 
take  her  usual  place.  You  said  the  lady  bore  a  most 
striking  resemblance  to  Miss  De  Vere,  whom  mammy 
saw  once  or  twice  before  she  was  married.  Oh, 
Walter,  how  much  your  mother  and  I  wish  you  had 
never  seen  her  whose  fatal  beauty  has  been  the  bane 


302 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


of  your  and  our  existence,  and  this  one,  who  is,  you 
say,  so  like  her,  must  needs  cross  your  path  and  turn 
your  head  again.  How  unlike  yourself  you  have 
been,  dear  Walter,  since  first  you  saw  her  and  this 
lady  who  bewitches  you  with  her  fair  pale  beauty. 
As  I  sit  and  think  of  the  sad  troubled  past  there  is 
a  foreboding  of  coming  evil,  a  dark  shadow  that  en- 
shrouds my  heart. ' ' 

Judge  Allan  seemed  not  to  have  caught  this  gloomy 
spirit,  for  there  was  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  his 
face,  a  look  of  triumph  in  his  fine  eyes,  from  which 
the  glasses  had  been  removed.  They  greatly  altered 
the  expression  of  his  eyes  and  made  him  look  much 
older  than  he  really  was.  Now  without  them,  though 
quite  gray,  he  was  a  singularly  handsome  man.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  and  his  plans  and  was  busy 
perfecting  them  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 
Thinking  it  was  a  servant,  he  said:  "Come  in,"  and 
was  surprised  to  see  two  men  enter.  They  advanced 
to  him  and  one  said : 

"This  is  Judge  Allan,  alias  Walter  Brunette.  I 
have  a  warrant  for  your  arrest.  You  are  charged 
with  the  abduction  of  Mrs.  Robert  Nelson  on  the  night 
of  November  16,  18— 

Those  who  knew  Walter  Brunette  well  would  have 
noticed  a  slight  pallor  creep  into  his  cheek,  but  the 
men,  being  strangers,  saw  not  a  ripple  of  emotion 
upon  the  face  raised  so  boldly,  so  unflinchingly  to 
their  own.  Indeed,  the  man  seemed  to  regard  the 
reading  of  the  warrant  as  a  jest,  and  said  with  the 
utmost  composure  when  it  was  finished : 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,  gentlemen,  in  the  per- 
son. I  know  no  lady  by  that  name.  I  can  prove  my 
character  and  identity  by  hundreds  of  people  in  this 
city." 


CAUGHT  AT  LAST 


303 


"In  due  time  you  will  have  it  to  prove,"  was  the 
gruff  answer.  "You  must  come  with  us  now,  and  if 
you  are  not  the  person  charged  with  this  crime  you 
can  prove  it,  as  you  say,  before  the  proper  author- 
ities." 

"I  will  submit  to  no  such  indignity,"  Walter 
Brunette  said,  with  the  look  and  air  of  an  insulted 
prince,  and  with  the  strength  of  a  trained  athlete  he 
broke  from  the  grasp  of  his  captors  and  rushed  to  the 
door,  to  find  it  locked  on  the  outside.  With  an  ex- 
pression of  rage,  he  faced  the  men,  who  advanced  to 
seize  him  a  second  time,  and,  raising  himself  to  his 
full  height,  with  his  back  to  the  door,  said : 

i 6  Shoot  me  as  you  would  a  dog.  I  resist  arrest  and 
the  law  gives  you  power  to  shoot  such  a  one.  Take 
good  aim  and  dispatch  me  at  once. ' ' 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  pushed  open  with 
such  violence  he  was  thrown  from  his  position,  and 
before  he  could  recover  himself  the  officers,  assisted 
by  Mr.  Chastine  and  Mr.  Scott,  had  him  fast,  and  soon 
he  was  being  whirled  away  in  a  close  carriage, 
guarded  by  the  four  men.  After  a  sullen  silence  of 
a  few  minutes,  the  prisoner  asked : 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Robert  Nelson,  for  whose  abduction 
I  am  arrested?    I  know  no  such  woman." 

Chester  Chastine  replied: 

"She  is  the  wife  of  Robert  Nelson,  of  Randolph 
Hall,  which  is  not  far  from  your  former  home.  You 
first  knew  her  as  Miss  Lillian  De  Vere,  and  on  her 
refusing  to  marry  you,  you  began  a  series  of  persecu- 
tions against  her  and  the  gentleman  she  married  that 
makes  a  record  worthy  of  a  romance  rather  than  the 
plain  unvarnished  truth.  For  all  of  these  you  will 
have  to  suffer,  but  you  are  arrested  for  your  last 


304 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


attack  upon  her,  because  it  is  the  only  one  that  was 
committed  in  this  state." 

61  What  you  say  sounds  indeed  like  a  romance  to 
me.  I  assert  again  most  positively  I  do  not  know  a 
living  person  by  that  name,"  came  from  Brunette's 
lips. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not,"  Chester  replied.  "You 
abducted  her  as  Mrs.  Devereux — a  name  she  assumed 
after  her  miraculous  escape  from  death  by  drowning 
to  try  to  outwit  your  perfidy.  She  had  brain  fever 
and  the  white  hair,  which  was  the  result  of  your 
cowardly  attack  upon  her  husband,  came  out  and  hair 
of  the  same  color  as  before  her  marriage  took  its  place. 
How  you  found  out  her  identity  is  a  mystery  known 
only  to  yourself.  You  abducted  her  and  last  night 
she  made  her  escape,  and  is  today  with  her  friends, 
who  will  see  to  it  that  you  will  not  molest  her  again. 
In  a  few  days  she  will  be  reunited  to  her  husband, 
whom  you  have  so  long  kept  from  her  by  your 
chicanery.  He  returned  while  you  had  his  wife  hid- 
den away,  and  is  in  New  York  now,  using  every  means 
to  find  her.  He  said  he  knew  your  villainy  had 
caused  her  sudden  disappearance.  You  see,  we  know 
all  your  wickedness  and  are  prepared  to  prove  it  all 
along,  so  you  needn't  assume  that  look  of  injured 
innocence.  The  last  words  Mrs.  Nelson  said  as  we 
started  out  for  the  officers  to  arrest  you  were:  1  Be 
sure  to  confine  him  most  securely.  He  is  such  an 
adept  in  cunning  he  will  certainly  elude  you  if  there 
is  the  slightest  possibility,  and  I  will  never  feel  safe 
again  if  he  is  at  large/  Poor  lady!  'tis  no  wonder 
she  feels  so  when  she  has  suffered  so  much  and  so  long 
from  your  attacks/' 

Walter  Brunette  gave  no  intimation  of  the  surprise 
Chester  Chastine 's  words  gave  him.    As  the  reader  is 


CAUGHT  AT  LAST 


305 


aware,  he  did  not  know  Mrs.  Devereux  to  be  Lillian, 
He  listened  to  the  words  that  showed  his  career  of 
crime  was  known  to  these  men  with  the  utmost  indif- 
ference— not  a  muscle  moved,  not  an  expression 
changed.  You  would  have  imagined  he  was  taking  a 
morning  drive  with  his  friends  to  judge  by  his  com- 
posed manner. 

' '  He  is  the  coolest  villain  I  ever  saw, ' 9  was  Chester 
Chastine 's  comment  after  he  had  seen  Brunette  safely 
imprisoned,  and  all  the  men  agreed  with  him. 

Scarcely  fifteen  minutes  had  elapsed  after  Judge 
Allan's  arrest  before  another  close  carriage  drove  up 
to  the  door  of  the  hotel,  from  which  a  lady  alighted. 
Meeting  a  servant  in  the  veranda,  she  asked  him  if 
Judge  Allan  was  in  his  room,  and,  if  so,  to  tell  him 
that  a  lady  wished  to  see  him  on  business.  The 
waiter  looked  curiously  at  her  for  a  moment  and  then 
said,  as  if  much  relieved : 

"  Judge  Allan  is  not  in  his  room,  ma'am.  But  here 
is  Mr.  Beckwith,  who  can  tell  you  where  he  is  better 
than  I  can.    Walk  in  the  parlor  while  he  explains." 

Evelyn  Brown,  for  it  was  she,  had  come  to  tell  her 
cousin  of  Lillian's  escape  and  to  get  advice  from  him. 
She  wondered  what  the  servant  meant,  but  did  as  he 
directed,  and  had  just  seated  herself  when  Jack  Beck- 
with entered.  After  the  usual  salutations  were  ex- 
changed, Mr.  Beckwith  said : 

"You  wished  to  see  Judge  Allan  on  business — law 
business,  I  suppose?" 

Evelyn  nodded  her  head  in  the  affirmative,  where- 
upon Jack  Beckwith,  thinking  the  lady  was  only  a 
client  of  the  supposed  judge,  with  a  desire  most  of 
us  have  to  tell  anything  new  and  strange,  proceeded 
to  relate  all  of  Lillian's  interesting  history  so  far  as 


306 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


he  knew  it,  the  outlines  of  which  Chester  Chastine 
had  that  morning  given  him. 

Evelyn,  cognizant  of  events  of  which  he  was  igno- 
rant, understood  it  all.  She  was  very  silent,  making 
no  comment,  she  was  incapable  of  making  any,  sat 
listening  with  outward  composure,,  but  her  heart  was 
beating  so  fast  and  wildly  she  put  her  hand  under  her 
cape  to  still  it,  lest  the  stranger  should  hear  it. 

Evelyn  never  knew  how  she  bore  the  trying  ordeal 
of  this  stranger's  words  so  calmly,  when  she  felt  just 
like  screaming  or  fainting;  but  she  escaped  from  his 
presence  without  giving  him  the  least  suspicion  of 
how  his  words  had  robbed  her  of  all  the  brightness 
life  had  for  her,  for  she  had  loved  this  man  for  years 
with  all  the  strength  of  her  heroic  nature,  and  nothing 
he  did  could  kill  nor  lessen  it.  After  she  had  left  the 
street  on  which  the  hotel  was*  located,  she  bade  the 
driver  take  her  to  the  prison.  There,  being  refused 
admittance,  she  was  driven  to  the  depot,  and,  learning 
that  the  next  northern-bound  train  left  at  five  o  'clock 
P.  m.,  she  ordered  the  driver  to  take  her  to  the  cottage 
and  return  in  time  for  her  to  take  the  northern-bound 
train.  She  told  Mrs.  Snow  the  lady  had  made  her 
way  to  her  friends,  but  she  had  not  found  out  how ; 
that  she  had  received  news  that  called  her  home  at 
once,  and  she  and  Aunt  Chloe  spent  the  rest  of  the 
day  packing,  and  that  evening  left  for  Cuckoo's  Nest 
to  bear  the  sad  tidings  to  the  long-suffering  mother, 
over  whose  head  this  fear  had  hung  like  a  sword  sus- 
pended for  years.  Mrs.  Snow  never  knew  the  drama 
in  which  she  acted  a  part.  About  a  year  previous, 
Mr.  Snow  was  threatened  to  be  put  out  of  the  house 
for  house  rent  when  a  gentlemanly  stranger  passing 
inquired  the  cause  of  their  distress,  and,  when  he 
could  get  the  officer  to  show  them  no  mercy,  himself 


CAUGHT  AT  LAST  307 


paid  the  amount  due  and  a  month's  rent  in  advance. 

He  gave  his  name  as  Mr.  Howell.  After  this  he 
came  occasionally  to  the  cottage,  where  he  always  re- 
ceived a  hearty  welcome.  One  night  he  came  and  told 
them  a  young  lady  friend  of  his  was  losing  her  mind 
from  the  use  of  opiates  and  her  relatives  wished  him 
to  secure  a  quiet  place  where  she  could  be  kept  from 
the  use  of  narcotics.  He  rented  the  back  of  the  house 
and  one  night  brought  the  young  lady,  in  a  state  of 
insensibility,  to  the  cottage.  Mrs.  Snow  was  em- 
ployed to  nurse  her  until  other  nurses  should  arrive 
who  thoroughly  understood  the  lady's  condition. 

Soon  Evelyn  and  Aunt  Chloe  came  and  relieved  her 
of  her  care.  How  the  lady  managed  to  escape  to  her 
friends  always  remained  a  mystery,  not  only  to  them 
but  to  the  Brunette  family  as  well.  It  was  one  secret 
Aunt  Chloe  kept  locked  in  her  own  breast.  Knowing 
the  disastrous  consequences  that  resulted  to  the  family 
from  Lillian's  escape,  fear,  if  nothing  else,  kept  her 
quiet. 

A  few  days  after  Lillian's  return  to  her  friends 
Jack  Philips,  to  his  great  astonishment  and  joy,  re- 
ceived a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars,  6  6  for  his  assist- 
ance to  a  lady  in  distress. ' '  This  timely  aid  enabled 
him  to  tide  over  the  threatened  foreclosure  of  the 
mortgage  and  save  his  little  home.  Sam  Marks  and 
his  wife  received  from  the  same  source,  "for  the  kind- 
ness rendered  a  stranger  in  need,"  a  sum  sufficient 
not  only  to  furnish  nicely  the  room  in  which  Lillian 
had  lodged,  but  to  get  many  other  articles  of  which 
the  young  couple  were  in  need. 


308  LILLIAN  DeVERE 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

HOME  AT  LAST. 

It  did  not  require  much  persuasion  on  Robert's 
part  to  induce  Captain  Harry  to  accompany  him 
home,  the  old  Captain  agreeing  to  the  separation  from 
his  nephew  for  a  year  as  a  sort  of  penance  for  his 
share  in  the  plot  that  had  so  long  separated  Robert 
from  his  friends,  and  of  which  he  was  so  heartily 
ashamed  he  could  bear  no  allusion  to  it.  With  the 
6 ' Nelson' '  ring  in  his  possession  and  Captain  Harry 
to  substantiate  his  story,  Robert  did  not  find  it  very 
difficult  to  prove  his  personality  to  his  lawyers,  for 
which  the  letter  they  had  received  from  Captain 
Harry  had  somewhat  prepared  them.  Indeed,  since 
Lillian's  sudden  reappearance  they  were  prepared  for 
almost  anything  singular  and  romantic,  and  were  very 
sincere  and  hearty  in  their  congratulations  on  Robert's 
return  to  claim  his  possessions,  the  care  of  which  had 
given  them  trouble  as  well  as  a  fine  income.  Having 
learned  from  them  Lillian's  residence  in  New  Orleans, 
and  after  having  commissioned  one  of  the  lawyers  to 
go  to  the  Hall  and  tell  the  strange  story  and  have  such 
arrangements  made  there  as  would  be  necessary  for 
their  speedy  return  to  their  home,  Robert  and  Captain 
Harry  took  the  next  train  for  the  South,  which  proved 
the  fastest  but  which  to  Robert  seemed  very  slow,  so 
anxious  was  he  to  see  again  his  beloved  Lillian  and 
present  her  to  his  friend,  to  whom  he  had  so  often 
spoken  of  her.  Judge  the  bitterness  of  his  grief  and 
disappointment  to  find  her  gone,  and  her  fate  en- 
shrouded in  mystery. 


HOME  AT  LAST 


309 


He  went  over  and  over  everything  connected  with 
her  last  words  and  acts,  and  at  once  pronounced  it 
another  instance  of  Walter  Brunette's  perfidy.  The 
case  was  again  given  to  detectives  and  Robert  worked 
day  and  night  with  them,  but  no  clue  could  be  ob- 
tained. Almost  wild  with  disappointment  and  excite- 
ment, he  and  Captain  Harry  had  gone  to  New  York 
and  secured  the  best  skill  to  be  found,  in  hope  that 
some  clue  might  yet  be  obtained,  when  the  joyous 
news  flashed  over  the  wires  that  Lillian  had  returned 
and  was  safe  with  her  friends,  and  was  counting  the 
moments  that  must  intervene  before  his  return. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  meeting  be- 
tween the  long-separated  and  sorely-tried  pair.  If 
our  language  were  not  too  poor  to  furnish  words  toi 
describe  the  scene,  it  is  too  sacred  to  be  intruded  upon 
by  their  dearest  friends,  much  less,  by  the  public, 
however  interested  they  may  be  in  the  fate  of  the  two 
who  loved  each  other  so  devotedly  and  who  had  been 
so  treacherously  dealt  with.  We  will,  therefore,  draw 
a  curtain  over  the  most  interesting  act  in  the  drama 
and  leave  imagination  with  its  fairy  fingers  to  paint 
it  for  each  reader.  A  most  happy  Christmas  was 
spent  with  their  friends  and  then  Robert  and  Lillian, 
accompanied  by  Iva  and  Viola  Chastine  and  Captain 
Harry,  started  for  the  Hall.  They  reached  Melton 
at  five  o  'clock  one  lovely  evening  in  winter.  The  sun 
had  set,  but  the  stars  twinkled  them  a  welcome,  and  a 
new  moon  greeted  them  with  her  lovely  crescent. 

Surely  the  Hall  had  never  in  its  palmiest  days 
looked  more  imposing  than  on  their  approach.  It 
was  brilliantly  illuminated  from  cellar  to  turret.  A 
large  silk  flag  floated  in  the  breeze,  waving  them  a 
welcome  with  its  graceful  folds.  The  loveliest  flowers 
bloomed  in  the  conservatory  as  if  to  honor  the  occa- 


810 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


sion.  All  the  tenants  gathered  on  the  sides  of  the 
walks  to  greet  them,  and  old  friends  filled  the  porches. 
Among  the  first  to  advance  were  Dr.  Graham  and 
Vivian.  Disease  and  time  had  dealt  harshly  with  the 
doctor.  His  head  had  whitened  and  his  once  erect 
form  was  bent,  but  his  face,  though  more  wrinkled 
than  when  we  saw  it  last,  beamed  with  keenest 
pleasure  as  he  welcomed  back  his  friends  as  from  the 
dead. 

Vivian  was  the  same  sweet,  thoughtful  girl,  who, 
since  her  mother's  death,  had  kept  house  for  " papa,7 7 
and  had  been  more  a  companion  than  a  daughter  to 
him.  Young  Dr.  Graham,  who  had  married  in  a  dis- 
tant city  and  was  practicing  medicine  there,  was  on  a 
visit  to  his  father  and  was  proud  to  be  present  on  this 
interesting  occasion.  Maude  had  married  a  young 
physician  and  was  living  at  Moss  Side.  She,  her 
noble  husband  and  two  sweet  babes  were  at  the  Hall 
to  join  in  the  delight  of  the  home-coming.  How  can 
we  picture  Mrs.  Coles'  joy  as  she  again  clasped  the 
hands  of  her  beloved  master  and  mistress.  With 
tears  raining  down  her  cheeks,  she  bade  them  welcome 
again  to  their  home. 

With  Mr.  Anderson  to  arrange  outside  affairs  and 
Mrs.  Coles  and  her  brother  to  aid  him  in  every  way  in 
their  line,  nothing  had  been  left  undone  to  make  the 
Hall  appear  as  grand  and  yet  as  homelike  as  it  had 
formerly  been.  New  paint,  frescoing,  upholstering, 
and  furnishing  had  rendered  it  in  every  way  a  most 
attractive  place,  and  with  its  noble  master  and  lovely 
mistress  to  preside  over  it,  every  guest  found  it  a 
most  delightful  place  of  sojourn.  One  of  the  first 
things  Mr.  Anderson  had  done  was  to  have  the  monu- 
ments which  had  been  erected  to  Robert's  and  Lil- 
lian's memory  torn  down  and  thrown  into  the  river 


HOME  AT  LAST 


311 


and  the  ground  leveled,  that  so  far  as  possible  every- 
thing connected  with  the  sad  past  might  be  removed. 

"With  the  summer  came  Mrs.  Chastine,  Mr.  Chester 
and  family,  Mr.  Scott  and  family,  Gerald  Lemoine 
and  Jack  Beckwith.  1 

Gerald  Lemoine  has  yielded  gracefully  to  the 
inevitable,  and  rumor  says  is  now  the  favored  suitor 
of  Viola  Chastine.  In  accordance  with  Lillian's 
advice  he  did  not  tell  her  of  his  former  love,  and  if 
the  fair  girl  suspected  it,  she  was  sensible  enough  not 
to  be  jealous  of  her  lover's  past  devotion  to  one  whose 
charms  were  so  universally  acknowledged. 

It  seems  to  be  understood  that  Jack  Beckwith  has 
a  claim  upon  Iva  Chastine.  Indeed,  there  is  to  be  a 
double  wedding  in  the  Chastine  family  in  October,  but 
only  a  few  friends  know  it  yet. 

Captain  Harry  is  a  general  favorite  alike  with 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  while  between  him  and  Robert 
there  is  a  love  similar  to  that  which  existed  between 
Jonathan  and  David,  for  the  soul  of  Robert  is  knit 
with  the  soul  of  Captain  Harry,  and  Robert  loves  him 
as  his  own  soul.  Robert  feels  that  under  heaven  he 
owes  his  life,  his  reason,  his  restoration  to  freedom 
and  happiness  to  Captain  Harry ;  but  apart  from  the 
gratitude  he  feels  for  such  blessings,  he  loves  the 
young  man  for  his  many  fine  qualities  of  head  and 
heart.  He  and  Lillian  smile  approvingly  when  they 
notice  Captain  Harry's  increasing  fondness  for 
Vivian  Graham's  society.  That  may  be  because  there 
is  a  similarity  and  a  consequent  congeniality  of  feeling 
between  the  two  in  circumstances.  Vivian  says  she 
will  never  marry  so  long  as  her  father  lives;  that  he 
shall  always  feel  he  has  one  near  him  who  loves  him 
best  and  is  willing  to  give  hijn  her  best  service  to  the 
end. 


312 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


Captain  Harry  feels  just  that  way  about  Captai# 
Hal,  and  this,  perhaps,  draws  them  to  each  other. 
Robert  grieves  that  Captain  Harry  must  leave  in  Octo- 
ber to  join  his  uncle  in  London,  when  he  makes  his 
yearly  trip  there  in  November.  One  thing  helps  to 
reconcile  him  to  the  separation.  Learning  that 
• 4 Cuckoo's  Nest,"  with  all  its  appurtenances,  was  for 
sale,  Captain  Harry  at  once  made  arrangements  to 
purchase  it.  Joe  Dawson  as  manager  and  his  mother 
as  housekeeper  were  retained ;  indeed,  as  the  furniture 
was  sold  with  the  house,  there  has  been  no  change 
made  in  the  management  except  that  the  business  has 
been  transferred  from  Mrs.  Brunette's  lawyers  to 
Budd  and  Anderson. 

Robert  feels  his  having  a  home  so  near  the  Hall 
will  attach  Captain  Harry  more  to  them,  and  in  case 
of  the  old  Captain's  death  the  young  Captain  may 
be  induced  to  settle  near  them. 

Lillian  is  more  beautiful  than  ever.  Time,  as  if 
loath  to  touch  unkindly  such  lovely  features,  has  only 
rounded  and  perfected  them.  Sorrow  and  trouble 
have  only  softened  the  expression  of  countenance  and 
the  eyes,  making  them  more  charming  than  in  their 
youthful  brilliant  beauty.  If  there  is  a  gray  hair 
under  the  luxuriant  dark  tresses,  it  is  ashamed  to  be 
seen  and  hides  itself  from  sight. 

Robert  has  not  been  so  much  a  favorite  with  time 
and  care.  While  still  a  handsome  man,  with  a  fine 
intellectual  countenance,  his  hair  and  moustache  are 
quite  gray  and  his  face  bears  traces  of  sorrow  and  his 
long  confinement.  His  physicians  say  if  he  had  not 
inherited  much  of  the  iron  constitution  of  his  first 
ancestors,  had  not  possessed,  as  they  did,  "a  sound 
mind  in  a  sound  body,"  his  life  or  his  reason  would 
probably  have  succumbed  to  his  long,  close  and  trying 


HOME  AT  LAST 


313 


imprisonment.  As  it  is,  they  think  he  will  soon  tide 
over  the  effects  and  yet  live  to  a  good  old  age.  The 
Psalmist  says:  ' 'Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night, 
but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning.'7 

Surely  it  was  a  long,  dark  night  of  sorrow  to  the 
young  couple  who  began  their  married  life  under  such 
apparently  auspicious  circumstances.  How  soon 
heavy  clouds  gathered  and  lowered  over  their  skies! 
If  an  occasional  rift  came,  in  which  the  stars  of  hope 
began  to  glimmer,  how  speedily  it  was  again  obscured ! 
But  at  last  the  dawn  appeared  and  a  morning  of  joy 
came,  giving  promise  of  a  glorious  noontide.  Joy- 
bells  rang  where  tear-drops  had  so  often  gathered, 
and  the  Hall  is  now  one  of  the  happiest  places  to  be 
found. 

Sometimes  the  sorrows  that  darken  our  skies  and 
cause  bitter  weeping  endure  until  death  comes  to  take 
us  to  the  spirit-land;  then,  if  God  is  our  Father,  He 
tenderly  wipes  all  the  tears  from  our  eyes  and  bids 
us  a  welcome  to  the  joys  of  an  eternal  morn.  Then 
we,  too,  are  "Home  at  Last." 


314 


LILLIAN  DeVEKE 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

BRUNETTE  *S  ESCAPE. 

Walter  Brunette's  native  state  made  requisition  of 
the  state  of  Louisiana  for  the  prisoner,  which,  after 
an  unaccountable  delay  of  months,  was  granted.  He 
was  brought  to  Melton  and  confined  in  the  jail  there 
to  await  his  trial  at  the  next  court.  A  few  days  after 
the  sheriff  received  an  intimation  that  there  was 
danger  of  the  prisoner  being  lynched,  and  he  was 
secretly  conveyed  to  a  place  of  greater  security.  The 
very  next  night  a  party  of  masked  men  appeared  at 
the  jail  in  Melton  and  demanded  that  the  prisoner 
be  given  up  to  them.  AVhen  they  found  out  he  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  their  vengeance,  they  became 
incensed  and  threats  of  burning  the  sheriff's  house 
were  whispered  around.  In  the  midst  of  the  excite- 
ment Robert  and  Captain  Harry  appeared  on  the 
scene.  They  had  learned  in  some  way  of  the  inten- 
tion of  the  mob  and  had  come  to  stop  any  act  of  vio- 
lence, if  possible. 

Robert's  presence  increased  rather  than  calmed  the 
excited  maskers  for  a  while,  but  when  on  his  horse, 
flecked  with  foam  from  his  rapid  ride,  he  pleaded  with 
them  to  commit  no  act  of  violence,  they  became  quiet 
and  listened  while  he  told  them  that,  while  he  and 
his  wife  appreciated  the  feelings  that  prompted  them 
to  revenge  their  wrongs,  yet  they  could  endorse  nor 
encourage  no  act  of  lawlessness  on  their  part. 

"We  should  always  uphold  the  majesty  of  the  law 


BRUNETTE'S  ESCAPE 


315 


and  yield  implicit  obedience  to  its  demands.  No  set 
of  men  has  a  right  to  take  the  law  in  their  hands. 
Let  the  prisoner  have  a  fair  trial,  and,  if  he  is  proved 
guilty,  then  let  him  be  punished  according  to  right 
and  justice/7 

By  degrees  he  who  had  suffered  so  much  at  the 
hands  of  the  offender  succeeded  in  allaying  their 
turbulent  spirits  and  they  quietly  dispersed. 

One  evening  about  three  weeks  afterwards  Lillian 
sat  alone  on  the  veranda  watching  for  Robert's  return 
from  the  city.  Iva,  Viola  and  Captain  Harry  were 
spending  a  few  days  at  Moss  Side,  between  which 
place  and  the  Hall  the  former  footing  of  intimacy  had 
been  established.  Robert  had  gone  to  the  city  on  busi- 
ness and  Lillian  was  watching  for  his  return.  Believ- 
ing their  enemy  to  be  where  he  could  never  again 
molest  them,  there  was  a  look  of  happy  expectancy  in 
Lillian's  splendid  eyes  and  a  bright  smile  took  its 
place  as  she  saw  Robert  coming  and  ran  to  meet  him. 
His  first  words  as  she  drew  near  arrested  her  steps 
and  made  her  heart  chill  with  a  fear  she  had  thought 
never  again  to  feel. 

i ' Lillian,  Walter  Brunette  has  escaped." 

1 '  Escaped ! ' '  Lillian  repeated. 

4  4  Yes,  darling,  here  is  the  paper  giving  an  account 
of  how  he  managed. ' ' 

' 'Oh,  Robert,  wTe  will  never  be  safe  again!  I  will 
never  feel  another  moment's  peace." 

Robert  tried  to  soothe  her  excited  feelings  by  telling 
her  he  surely  would  never  again  trust  himself  in  that 
section,  that  he  would  be  in  too  great  peril  of  recap- 
ture j  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  quiet  her 


316 


LILLIAN  DeVEEE 


sufficiently  to  allow  him  to  read  the  account  of  his 
escape,  which  was  as  follows: 

BROKE  JAIL  WITH  A  BIBLE. 


DUMMY  FOOLED  BRUNETTE'S  KEEPER. 


GOOD  BOOK  RAISED  HIM  TO  ROOF. 


Marshall,  April  17. — "Walter  W.  Brunette,  charged 
with  several  very  grave  crimes,  and  who  was  brought 

here  several  weeks  ago  by  the  sheriff  of  L  County 

for  greater  security,  escaped  between  nine  o'clock  last 
night  and  four  o'clock  this  morning.  The  night 
guard  in  the  jail  was  deceived  on  his  half -hourly  trips 
by  a  dummy  man  on  Brunette's  cot  in  cell  No.  21. 

When  Brunette  did  not  stir  at  breakfast  time,  an 
examination  showed  that  four  bars  at  the  bottom  of 
the  cell  door  had  been  sawed  off  and  paper  cylinders, 
blackened  with  stove  polish,  inserted  in  their  place. 
The  iron  bars  Brunette  carried  to  the  chapel,  to  which 
he  made  his  way.  Here  he  placed  a  bench  on  end, 
with  the  big  pulpit  Bible  on  top  of  it,  to  reach  the 
cupola,  through  which  he  got  on  the  roof  and  dropped 
to  the  ground.  The  cell  door  was  cut  with  a  fine 
file  saw,  which  was  carried  to  him  by  someone  in 
some  way,  it  is  supposed  in  a  bunch  of  bananas. 
Brunette  is  believed  to  have  been  driven  away  by  a 
confederate  in  a  buggy.  Every  effort  is  being  made 
to  recapture  him,  but  with  little  hope  of  success.  He 
is  said  to  be  an  adept  in  cunning. 

A  storm  of  indignation  and  disappointment  arose 
among  Kobert's  and  Lillian's  friends  when  they  heard 
of  Brunette's  escape.    The  sheriff  was  blamed  for 


BRUNETTE'S  ESCAPE  317 


taking  him  away  from  the  punishment  he  so  richly 
deserved,  and  some  even  hinted  that  he  was  pi  sym- 
pathy with  the  prisoner  or  had  been  bribed  to  conceal 
him  where  there  would  be  a  means  of  escape.  This, 
of  course,  was  not  true  and  was  probably  circulated 
by  some  of  the  masked  party  to  vent  their  spite  upon 
the  sheriff  for  his  doing  his  duty. 

Lillian  could  not  but  feel  uneasy  at  the  thought 
that  her  enemy  was  again  at  large.  He  who  had 
plotted  so  often  and  so  successfully  could  plot  and 
succeed  again.  She  expressed  as  little  of  her  fear  as 
she  could  well  do,  but  strict  orders  were  given  that 
no  tramp  or  suspicious  person  should  be  allowed 
within  the  gates  of  the  Hall,  day  nor  night.  Still, 
the  weeks  sped  rapidly  by  at  the  Hall,  where  all  was 
now  happiness  and  joy. 

' '  How  softly  falls  the  foot  of  time 
That  only  treads  on  flowers. ' ' 

If  ever  a  thought  of  Brunette  intruded  it  was  as  if 
cloudlets  fleck  the  splendor  of  the  midday  sky  to 
temper  its  bewildering  brightness. 

Several  months  passed.  Twas  the  eve  of  a  perfect 
summer  day.  Lillian 's  gaze  wandered  from  the  book 
she  had  been  reading  to  the  scene  of  entrancing  beauty 
spread  out  before  her,  and  she  became  dreamy.  The 
hero  and  heroine  of  her  book  had  suffered  many  and 
cruel  wrongs  at  the  hands  of  their  enemies,  from 
which  the  author  had  at  last  extricated  them  and 
brought  them  forth  to  happiness.  She  knew  if  the 
story  of  her  own  eventful  life  were  told  it  would  be 
as  strange  as  any  fiction  she  had  ever  read.  She  was 
asking  herself  if  her  trials  were  at  last  over  and 
would  the  eventide  of  her  life  be  calm  after  a  morning 


318 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


so  checkered  by  sorrow  and  disappointment.  Her 
guests,  with  the  exception  of  Captain  Harry,  had 
gone  for  a  short  trip  to  Niagara  and  New  York. 
Robert  and  Captain  Harry  had  gone  for  a  row  on  the 
river.  Her  friends  had  wished  her  and  Robert  to  ac- 
company them,  but  the  young  couple  were  content  to 
stay  at  home  now  after  so  many  vicissitudes.  They 
found  their  greatest  happiness  there  in  each  other's 
society. 

Lillian  was  aroused  from  her  reverie  by  the  servant 
appearing  with  the  mail.  As  she  carefully  looked 
over  it  she  was  surprised  to  find  a  letter  of  such 
unusual  weight  as  to  require  an  extra  stamp,  ad- 
dressed to  herself  in  a  strange  hand-writing  and  bear- 
ing a  strange  post-mark.  "With  a  vague  wonder  of 
who  the  writer  and  what  the  contents  could  be,  she 
turned  it  over  and  over,  and  at  last  opened  it.  We 
will  leave  the  reader  to  judge  with  what  emotions  she 
read  the  following  words: 


BRUNETTE'S  LETTER  319 


CHAPTER  XL VI. 

brunette  *s  letter. 

Mrs.  Robert  Nelson. 

Dear  Madame:  I  know  not  why,  but  an  irresist- 
ible impulse  prompts  me  to  write  to  you  and  tell  you 
how  much  I  deplore  the  part  I  played  in  the  tragic 
drama  of  your  life,  a  part,  however,  for  which  I  am 
as  little  responsible  as  the  actor  upon  the  stage  is 
accountable  for  the  crimes  of  the  character  he  as- 
sumes. You  will  doubtless  think  this  a  strange  asser- 
tion, but  I  know  now  that  for  many  years  I  have  been, 
either  the  veriest  madman  that  ever  wandered  at 
large  among  his  fellow-men  or  the  veriest  demon  that 
ever  possessed  a  human  form.  Theologians  think  the 
time  of  demoniacal  possession  is  past.  Of  that  I  am 
not  so  sure,  but  if  they  are  right,  then  for  years  I 
have  been  insane.  From  the  first  moment  I  saw  you, 
a  strange  infatuation  seized  me,  or  did  your 
transcendent  beauty  cast  over  me  a  spell  that  stole 
my  senses  from  me!  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  realize  that 
after  I  knew  you  I  became  a  changed  man.  Before 
I  was  of  a  proud,  selfish,  imperious  nature,  but  I  was 
a  man  of  honor,  and  so  esteemed  by  those  who  knew 
me.  I  was  engaged  to  my  cousin,  but  I  threw  aside 
honor,  ambition,  pride,  independence  and  everything 
that  could  hinder  me  in  the  race.  If  insane,  I  was 
a  monomaniac,  possessed  with  the  one  idea  of  winning 
you  at  all  hazards  and  in  any  way.  Your  very  indif- 
ference to  me  made  the  pursuit  after  you  the  more 
ardent.  Other  beautiful  women  had  smiled  on  me, 
had  seemed  flattered  by  my  attentions,  but  to  none 


320 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


save  my  cousin  had  I  given  more  than  a  passing 
thought.  Sometimes  I  caught  in  your  eyes  an  ex- 
pression of  fear,  and  it  maddened  me  to  think  you 
were  afraid  of  me  and  could  not  love  me.  Like  Car- 
men, I  sang : 

"Love  unfurls  his  wings  above  thee 

And  a  wondrous,  wondrous  story  does  declare. 
Thou  lovest  me  not  and  yet  I  love  thee, 
And  if  I  love  thee,  then  beware!" 

I  asked  you  to  be  my  wife  and  you  gently  but  firmly 
told  me  you  could  never  love  me.  I  can  see  your 
face  now  as  I  saw  you  that  morning,  that  face  of  rare 
and  most  exquisite  loveliness  of  feature  and  expres- 
sion— the  face  of  a  perfect  woman,  with  eyes  dark 
and  deep  and  lustrous,  but  honest  as  the  light  of  day. 
In  their  mystic  depths  I  read  my  fate  and  reason 
must  have  left  her  throne.  Fever  seized  me  and  for 
weeks  threatened  my  life.  When  I  again  became  con- 
scious of  my  surroundings,  I  wished  I  had  died.  How 
much  better  it  would  have  been  for  you  and  yours 
had  my  life  ceased  then ! 

But  I  lived  on,  with  the  wild  passion  burning  in 
my  veins.  I  was  jealous  of  Robert  Nelson  and  I  tried 
to  make  him  believe  you  were  a  heartless  coquette, 
using-  your  bewitching  beauty  to  entrance  men's 
hearts,  that  you  might  toss  them  aside  as  carelessly  as 
a  child  throws  away  a  broken  toy.  I  rejoiced  when 
I  saw  he  was  afraid  of  you.  Of  one  thing  I  shall  ever 
be  grateful,  that  my  mania,  if  such  it  was,  did  not 
make  me  a  murderer.  I  would  not  have  killed  you 
that  night  in  the  hut.  I  only  wanted  to  frighten  you 
into  marrying  me,  as  I  felt  assured  my  devoted  love 
must  win  your  love  in  return.    I  am  an  expert  marks- 


BRUNETTE'S  LETTER  321 


man  and  could  have  killed  your  husband  in  the  sum- 
mer house,  but  something  beyond  me  kept  me  from 
committing  the  deed,  mad  with  jealousy  though  I  was. 
After  that  deed  I  fled  to  New  York  and  entered  the 
detective  service,  that  I  might  become  an  adept  in 
disguises.  I  succeeded  and  won  reputation  and 
money. 

Captain  Hal  McCarthy  had  known  me  in  former 
days  when  I  was  an  honored  guest  in  the  best  society, 
and,  not  knowing  me  otherwise,  believed  me  when  I 
told  him  of  your  husband 's  insanity,  and  readily  lent 
me  his  aid  in  my  plot  to  separate  your  husband  from 
you.  I  could  more  easily  and  safely  have  drugged 
and  drowned  him,  but  his  good  angel,  perhaps,  kept 
the  terrible  thought  from  entering  my  mind. 

Becoming  tired  of  detective  work,  I  became  a  jour- 
nalist, and  with  the  power  I  possess  of  giving  myself 
up  to  anything  I  undertake,  I  won  success  in  that 
role.  I  chose  Queen's  Beach  as  my  home,  because  I 
loved  the  sea,  with  its  many  attractions  and  its  in- 
spiration as  well,  and  because  it  was  a  quiet  place, 
apart  from  the  world,  which  I  was  beginning  to  hate. 
There  my  busy  facile  pen  wove  romance,  with  you  as 
the  heroine.  How  fancy  delighted  itself  in  thoughts 
of  you,  and  when  it  found  expression  in  words  it 
pleased  the  public  and  made  me  famous.  I  went  into 
no  society.  I  cared  for  none  until  I  heard  them  speak 
of  a  French  lady  of  extraordinary  beauty  and  grace 
of  manner.  Your  praise  was  on  every  lip  and  reached 
even  me,  recluse  as  I  was. 

Curiosity  led  me  to  wish  to  see  you.  I  knew  you  at 
once,  and  I  found  you  did  not  know  me.  I  gloated 
with  fiendish  glee  over  your  coming  to  me  and  putting 
yourself  in  my  power.  I  determined  to  win  you  as 
Reynolds,  the  journalist,  and  then  reveal  my  identity 


321 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


to  you,  but  a  premature  discovery  blasted  my  hopes. 

That  night  when  you  suspected  my  identity,  when 
the  color  suddenly  left  your  cheeks  and  lips,  when 
the  light  faded  from  your  eyes  and  into  them  crept  a 
wild  terror  that  made  you  as  pallid  as  death,  some- 
thing that  would  have  been  called  remorse  in  other 
men  seized  me.  For  years  I  had  not  prayed,  but  that 
night  I  attempted  to  pray,  and  the  burden  of  my 
prayer  was: 

' c  Save  her  from  me,  at  once,  her  most  devoted  lover 
and  bitterest  enemy;  save  me  from  my  other  cruel 
self,  that  knows  no  mercy.' 9 

The  next  day  I  fled,  as  it  were,  from  myself,  but  I 
could  not  stay  away;  some  power  impelled  me  back 
to  you.  I  know  now  that  had  I  been  in  full  possession 
of  my  faculties,  or  had  I  not  been  an  incarnate  fiend, 
as  I  sometimes  suspect  myself  to  have  been,  fear  of 
your  vengeance  would  have  kept  me  from  you.  How 
did  I  know  you  had  not  informed  the  officers  of  the 
law  against  me?  Instead  of  thinking  of  my  peril 
from  that  source,  I  decided  that,  like  the  great  Na- 
poleon, I  was  a  "Man  of  Destiny,"  and  that  my 
actions  were  governed  by  occult  influences  over  which 
I  nor  any  person  had  any  control.  I  need  not  recall 
the  scene  on  the  cliff.  I  do  not  know  what  kept  me 
from  following  you  over  the  precipice.  It  was  cer- 
tainly not  because  I  cared  for  life  after  I  thought  you 
were  dead.  I  cared  for  nothing.  Reckless,  bereft  of 
reason,  like  one  in  a  dream,  I  made  my  way  to  New 
York  to  a  friend  who,  since  our  college  days,  had 
loved  me  as  a  brother.  I  was  very  sick  for  months 
and  Charlie  watched  untiringly  at  my  bedside.  Once 
I  overheard  the  doctor  say : 

"It  is  the  worst  case  of  nervous  prostration  I  ever 
encountered.    I'm  afraid  his  mind  will  go." 


BRUNETTE'S  LETTER  323 


Then  Charlie  said,  very  sadly : 
"I  think  he  has  not  been  himself  for  years.  Ha 
loved  a  lady,  and  losing  her  turned  his  head. 9  9 

Then  the  doctor  gave  directions  that  I  must  be 
watched  constantly. 

' '  He  is  not  accountable  and  might  be  dangerous.  ** 

For  months  I  remained  Charlie's  patient,  watching 
an  opportunity  to  get  away  secretly  from  his  sur- 
veillance. I  had  spent  twelve  years  of  my  early  life 
in  New  Orleans,  was  educated  there,  and  a  desire 
seized  me  to  go  to  that  city.  One  day  as  I  stood  in 
the  door  of  our  boarding  house,  someone  came  up  to 
me  and  saluted  me  very  cordially  as  "  Judge  Allan. " 

That  gave  me  a  cue.  I  asked  Charlie  about  the 
judge.  He  said  he  was  a  prominent  man,  and  a  few 
days  after  showed  him  to  me.  By  consulting  my  mir- 
ror I  found  I  could  become  very  much  like  the  famous 
jurist  by  donning  a  professional  black  suit  of  peculiar 
style,  a  beaver  hat  and  glasses.  My  hair  had  turned 
gray  and  my  face  was  very  thin,  almost  to  emaciation. 

Stealthily  I  made  my  arrangements,  and  one  morn- 
ing stole  off  while  Charlie  was  asleep,  and  took  the 
train  en  route  to  New  Orleans.  At  Atlanta  you 
boarded  the  train.  I  saw  your  face  and  your  resem- 
blance to  my  lost  darling  awoke  again  in  me  a  pas- 
sionate love  for  you,  stranger  though  you  were.  I 
found  out  you  were  going  to  New  Orleans,  and  that 
you  were  a  Mrs,  Devereux.  That  night,  while  gazing 
spell-bound  at  the  carriage  that  had  borne  you  from 
my  sight,  I  was  knocked  down  and  injured  quite  seri- 
ously by  an  unruly  horse  attached  to  a  vehicle.  In 
a  state  of  unconsciousness  I  was  carried  to  a  sani- 
tarium, where  I  remained  for  months,  getting  well 
and  chafing  like  a  chained  lion  at  being  kept  from 


324 


LILLIAN  DeVERB 


again  seeing  you,  One  day  I  heard  there  was  to  be 
an  excursion  on  the  lake,  and  I  went  because  I  thought 
you  might  be  there.  Imagine  my  joy  on  seeing  you. 
Not  for  one  minute  did  I  turn  my  gaze  from  you.  I 
feasted  my  eyes  and  my  heart  on  your  beauty.  Later 
I  learned  where  you  were  boarding,  and  the  next  day 
secured  board  at  the  same  place.  As  long  as  I  could 
see  you,  hear  your  voice,  even  sometimes  get  a  word 
or  glance  from  you,  I  was  content,  because  you  cared 
for  no  man  more  than  me.  I  saw  and  rejoiced  in  your 
coldness  to  those  who  would  have  made  love  to  you. 
But  one  day  Gerald  Lemoine  came  and  you  were  more 
gracious  to  him  than  to  any  other  man,  and  soon  it 
began  to  be  whispered  that  you  would  marry  him. 
Then  the  very  demon  of  jealousy  awoke  in  me,  or  the 
mania — which  ? — and  I  vowed  you  should  never  marry 
him. 

Gerald  Lemoine  was  no  stranger  to  me,  though  he 
did  not  recognize  me  in  my  new  name  and  changed 
as  I  was  in  appearance  since  he  had  seen  me.  When 
I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  my  mother  married 
Gerald's  father.  We  boys  were  both  greatly  opposed 
to  the  marriage.  My  mother  had  not  consulted  me  in 
the  matter  and  I,  accustomed  to  being  consulted  about 
almost  everything,  resented  it  and  vented  my  spite 
upon  Gerald,  a  proud,  sensitive,  reserved  boy  who 
felt  keenly  his  dependence  upon  his  wealthy  step- 
mother, who  barely  tolerated  his  presence  in  her  home. 

There  was  constant  friction  between  us  boys  and  I 
know  now  I  was  much  more  to  blame  than  my  com- 
panion, but  my  mother  always  took  my  part  and 
blamed  Gerald.  One  day  after  an  altercation  rather 
more  serious  than  usual,  Gerald  left  home,  vowing 
never  to  return,  but  telling  my  mother  she  would  yet 
live  to  see  him  as  wealthy  and  even  more  highly  es- 


BRUNETTE'S  LETTER  325 


teemed  than  her  son.  I  thought  of  this  and  I  felt  I 
could  never  give  you  up  to  anyone,  much  less  my 
hated  rival.  One  day  I  learned  you  were  going  to 
leave  the  city  suddenly  and  secretly,  and  it  was 
thought  you  were  going  to  New  York  to  make  prepara- 
tions to  marry  Gerald.  I  had  already  made  up  my 
mind  to  hide  you  from  him  if  it  should  come  to  that, 
so  that  night  I  seized  you  and  took  you  to  a  place  of 
concealment.  I  would  keep  you  there  till  your 
friends  believed  you  dead,  then  I  would  declare  my 
absorbing  love  for  you  and  offer  you  freedom  if  you 
would  marry  me.  You  escaped  and  I  was  arrested 
and  put  in  prison. 

Strangely  enough,  it  did  not  affect  me.  It  did  not 
even  cause  me  surprise  to  learn  that  you  were  Lillian, 
and  that  your  husband  had  returned.  I  think  I  was 
incapable  of  realizing  my  dangerous  position,  for  I 
thought  more  of  the  discomforts  of  my  imprisonment 
than  of  anything  connected  with  it.  Indeed,  my  mind 
was  in  a  dazed  condition.  I  was  like  a  man  in  a 
dream  from  which  he  would  fain  awake.  One  morn- 
ing when  I  had  been  imprisoned  three  weeks,  the  doo* 
of  my  cell  was  opened  and  I  turned  to  behold  my 
mother,  but  so  changed  even  from  the  last  time  I  had 
seen  her,  I  hardly  recognized  her.  Her  hair  was  like 
driven  snow  and  her  face  had  the  most  agonized 
expression  I  have  ever  known  a  human  countenance  to 
wear.  She  tottered  toward  me.  At  that  moment  a 
change  came  over  me,  a  most  unaccountable  change.  I 
rushed  to  meet  mother,  and  she  fell  in  my  arms.  Clasp- 
ing her,  I  began  to  weep.  It  has  been  said  lunatics  shed 
no  tears.  I  had  shed  none  for  many  years,  but  the 
fountain  of  my  tears  seemed  to  overflow,  and  like 
rain  they  fell  on  my  mother's  bowed  white  head. 
From  that  moment  I  have  been  myself  again.   Can  it 


326 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


be  that  the  love  for  a  beautiful  woman  drove  me  mad 
and  the  love  for  a  heart-broken  mother  restored  my 
reason  ?  I  shall  see  to  it  this  does  not  reach  you  until 
I  am  beyond  the  power  of  human  law.  I  would  not 
have  you  think  I  would  hide  myself  from  justice  under 
the  plea  of  insanity.  No,  indeed;  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  I  will  never  suffer  a  public  trial.  I  will 
never  furnish  food  for  the  curiosity  of  a  gaping 
crowd.  If  I  cannot  escape  from  prison,  which  I  hope 
I  can  do  for  my  poor  mother's  sake,  I  shall  take  the 
poison  I  have  carried  about  me  many  years  in  cass 
of  an  extremity,  and  die  a  suicide,  and  yet  I  can 
assure  you  so  deeply  do  I  deplore  the  sorrow  I  have 
given  you,  if  I  could  by  my  death  atone  for  it,  I  would 
most  willingly  give  up  my  life  for  your  sake.  But 
I  know  the  past  can  never  be  retrieved.  If  I  escape 
I  shall  in  a  strange  land  try  to  leave  behind  me  the 
past  so  far  as  I  can  and  endeavor  to  make  my  mother 
and  cousin  happy.  Now,  Mrs.  Nelson,  with  the  prayer 
that  heaven's  richest  blessings  may  be  yours  in  the 
future,  I  am,  most  truly,  Your  friend, 

W.  B. 

P.  S. — You  have  doubtless  learned  ere  this  that  I 
made  my  escape  from  prison.  Evelyn,  who  has 
always  been  as  true  as  steel  to  me,  brought  me  the 
means  by  which  I  escaped  in  her  luxuriant  dark  hair. 
Tomorrow  we  will  sail  for  our  new  home.  Evelyn  and 
I  will  be  married  as  soon  as  we  reach  our  destination 
and  the  one  aim  of  my  life  shall  be  to  make  her  and 
my  mother  as  happy  as  I  can.  Now  farewell,  dear 
Mrs.  Nelson.  If  ever  thoughts  of  me  shall  intrude 
upon  your  happiness  as  shadows  sometimes  cross  the 
disc  of  the  sun,  let  me  beg  you  to  think  of  me  as  kindly 
as  you  can.  As  the  divine  compassionate  Master  has 
taught  His  disciples  to  pray  for  their  enemies,  may  I 


BRUNETTE'S  LETTER  327 


not  even  ask  you  to  pray  for  me,  that  "on  the  step- 
ping-stones of  my  other  dead  self  I  may  climb  to  a 
higher,  better  life?"  W.  B. 

Lillian  was  holding  the  letter  clasped  in  her  hand 
when  Robert  came  to  look  for  her.  Without  a  word 
she  handed  it  to  him,  and  watched  him  as  he  read  it. 
A  frown  gathered  on  his  brow  at  first.  Angry  glances 
shot  from  his  eyes  and  a  scornful  expression  played 
about  his  lips ;  but  as  he  read  on,  his  eyes  grew  softer, 
and  when  he  finished  he  said,  musingly : 

4 'He  may  have  been  insane.  He  must  have  been, 
but  whether  insane  or  not,  we  must  try  to  forgive  him, 
love,  for  if  we  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither 
will  our  Father  in  heaven  forgive  our  trespasses." 

''Yes,  dear,"  was  Lillian's  soft,  low  answer;  "and 
we  must  pray  for  him.  Love  your  enemies.  Pray 
for  them  that  despitefully  use  you.  I  am  glad  he 
escaped.    I  shall  never  be  afraid  of  him  again." 

Lillian  never  heard  anything  more  of  Walter 
Brunette,  but  in  the  south  of  France  in  a  pretty,  quiet 
country  home  lives  a  family  consisting  of  mother, 
son,  his  wife  and  two  beautiful  bright  children.  The 
old  lady  has,  when  alone,  a  proud,  stern  expression 
on  her  face,  which  bears  many  traces  of  care  and  sor- 
row, but  when  with  her  loved  ones  there  is  a  fond 
bright  look  that  shows  content.  The  husband  and 
father  is  gray,  but  is  very  handsome  yet,  though  there 
are  lines  upon  his  forehead  that  tell  of  past  shadows. 
His  wife  is  very  pretty  and  seems  very  happy,  but 
sometimes  she  notices  a  strange,  sad,  faraway  look  on 
her  husband's  face,  then  she  calls  in  the  children 
from  their  play  and  sends  them  to  "papa."  Looking 
into  their  innocent  faces,  listening  to  their  childish 


328 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


prattle,  feeling  their  soft,  warm  arms  about  his  neck 
as  they  put  up  their  sweet  lips  for  a  kiss,  Walter 
Brunette  feels  there  is  yet  something  in  life  to  live 
for. 


FINALE 


329 


CHAPTER  XL VII. 

FINALE. 

Ten  years  have  passed  since  we  last  heard  from  the 
inmates  of  the  Hall.  There  have  been  changes,  but 
they  have  been  happy  changes.  It  is  again  a  lovely 
summer  eve.  Robert  and  Lillian,  sitting  on  the  front 
veranda,  watch  the  children  at  play  in  the  yard  and 
smile  at  their  innocent  pranks.  How  happy  and 
healthy  they  look!  The  oldest,  a  bright,  tall,  manly 
boy  of  nine  years,  is  named  Harry. 

The  tenants  call  Robert  the  'Squire  and  Harry  the 
young  'Squire,  and  he  is  very  proud  of  the  title. 
Sometimes  as  he  sits  beside  Lillian  and  looks  lovingly 
into  her  face,  he  says: 

' '  Mother,  I  want  to  be  just  like  father  when  I  grow 
up;  everybody  loves  and  honors  him  so.  All  the 
tenants  say  there  surely  could  never  have  been  a  bet- 
ter 'Squire  of  the  Hall  than  father  is,"  and  Lillian 
strokes  his  head  and  tells  him  he  is  right  to  try  to 
follow  in  his  father's  footsteps,  and  in  her  heart  she 
hopes  he  wiU  be  just  like  his  noble  father. 

The  next  child  is  Helen.  She  bears  the  name  of  the 
beloved  sister,  and  some  think  she  resembles  the  por- 
trait of  the  fair,  frail  girl,  but  the  hue  of  health  glows 
upon  the  little  Helen's  cheek  and  she  has  even  more 
life  and  spirit  than  Harry,  who  is  beginning  to  think 
he  must  assume  some  dignity  as  the  oldest  of  the 
children  and  as  the  young  'Squire,  too.  Helen's 
merry  laugh  rings  out  above  the  rest  as  she  skillfully 
eludes  the  capture  by  the  others  who  are  attempting 
to  ' i catch  her."  Next  comes  Robert,  a  remarkably 
beautiful  boy,  who  has  inherited  many  of  his  mother's 


330 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


features  and  especially  the  sweet  expression  that 
added  a  double  charm  to  Lillian's  beauty.  He  makes 
a  lovely  picture,  as  with  long  dark  curls  flying  in  the 
breeze,  with  his  cheeks  aglow  with  exercise,  he  chases 
" sister,' '  hoping  to  be  the  successful  captor  of  the 
fair  maiden. 

Next  comes  little  Alice,  a  cherub  of  three,  with  eyes 
of  deepest  blue  and  a  mass  of  golden  tresses  that  fall 
in  ripples  and  waves  over  her  shapely  shoulders.  They 
wanted  to  name  her  Lillian,  but  her  mother  pleaded 
so  earnestly  for  the  name  of  Alice,  it  was  at  last  given 
her.  The  fine,  beautiful  baby  of  a  year  is  named 
' '  Chastine. "  It  is  needless  to  say  he  is  the  favorite 
of  the  Chastine  family,  and  is  to  them  all,  as  Iva 
quaintly  said,  "the  loveliest  floweret  of  the  lovely 
cluster. ' ' 

Iva  and  Jack  have  been  married  many  years,  and 
as  no  little  one  has  come  to  their  home,  they  threaten 
to  steal  Chastine  as  soon  as  he  gets  a  little  larger. 

Gerald  and  Viola  were  married  at  the  same  time  Iva 
and  Jack  were.  They  have  three  little  girls.  The 
youngest,  from  a  real  or  fancied  resemblance  to  Lil- 
lian, is  named  for  her.  She  is,  indeed,  marvelously 
lovely.  With  her  small,  delicate  features,  soulful  ex- 
pression and  eyes  that  mirror  a  pure  heart,  she  bids 
fair  to  rival  even  her  namesake's  singular  beauty,  but 
her  parents  pray  that  no  Walter  Brunette  may  em- 
bitter their  darling's  life. 

There  are  happy  times  when  all  the  Chastines  come 
to  the  Hall  for  the  summer,  and  grown  people  and 
children  think  the  long  days  too  short  for  the  enjoy- 
ment to  be  crowded  into  them. 

If  sometimes  a  thought  of  the  old  tradition  and  the 
fatality  that  seemed  to  confirm  it  passes  through 
Lillian's  mind  and  casts  a  shadow  upon  her  heart, 


FINALE  331 


she  quickly  banishes  it  as  base  ingratitude  to  her 
Heavenly  Father,  who  directs  all  things  by  His  own 
wisdom. 

One  day  one  of  the  oldest  women  in  the  neighbor- 
hood was  at  the  Hall.  As  she  looked  upon  the  bright, 
healthy  children,  she  said : 

' '  I  am  glad  your  first-born  died. ' ' 

Lillian  looked  at  her  in  great  surprise,  and  the  old 
woman  continued : 

'  i  It  has  always  been  said  that  if  the  first-born  was 
a  girl,  or  if  the  first  boy  died,  it  would  show  that  the 
old  'Squire's  spell  over  his  descendants  would  be 
broken  forever.  That  is  why  I  said  what  startled 
you  so. ' ' 

Lillian  rallied  and  said : 

"Mrs.  Knox,  you  are  surely  too  sensible  a  woman 
to  believe  in  that  absurd  tradition." 
The  old  lady  replied : 

"  I  do  not  really  believe  in  it,  because  it  is  against 
religion  and  reason,  but  if  in  your  earlier  years  you 
are  thrown  with  people  who  are  superstitious,  uncon- 
sciously you  imbibe  the  spirit,  and,  try  as  hard  as  you 
may,  you  cannot  altogether  rid  yourself  of  its  in- 
fluence over  you.  Indeed,  I  think  everybody  has  a 
vein  of  superstition  and  cannot  help  being  more  or 
less  impressed  by  it,  however  they  may  deny  it  and 
reason  against  it.  Do  you  not  notice  how  every  child 
is  interested  in  stories  of  a  strange,  startling  nature, 
stories  that  take  them  out  of  the  real  into  the  unreal, 
where  fancy  and  superstition  revel?  Grown  people 
love  them,  too,  however  much  they  may  decry  them . '  ■ 

Lillian  could  not  gainsay  this,  for  she  remembered 
with  what  interest  she  had  first  listened  to  the  old 
tradition  from  the  lips  of  one  whose  acts  had  cast  a 
much  darker  and  deeper  gloom  over  the  Hall  than 


332 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


any  act  of  the  dead  ancestor  could  do,  even  admitting 
the  story  to  be  true.  But  she  thanks  God  that  the 
shadows  are  past  and  that  sunshine  and  joy  now 
make  the  Hall  such  a  happy,  happy  home.  But  we 
must  leave  Lillian  in  her  happiness  and  return  to  some 
of  our  other  friends. 

Captain  Harry  and  Vivian  live  at  Cuckoo's  Nest. 
The  old  Captain  died  very  suddenly  of  apoplexy  five 
years  ago  and  Dr.  Graham  a  year  later.  When  a  year 
of  mourning  had  gone  by,  Vivian  made  Captain  Harry 
very  happy  by  becoming  his  wife.  The  * ' Nest' 9  had 
been  made  into  a  very  lovely  home  for  his  swreet  bird. 
It  is  known  now  how  Walter  Brunette  managed  to 
conceal  himself  so  effectively  from  his  pursuers. 
There  was  a  secret  room  in  the  house  of  which,  be- 
fore Mrs.  Brunette's  time,  no  one  except  the  im- 
mediate members  of  the  family  knew.  It  became 
necessary  to  let  Joe  Dawson  and  his  mother  into  the 
secret,  as  their  assistance  was  needed  to  screen  Walter 
from  those  who  would  have  brought  him  to  justice. 
They  were  told  the  secret  after  they  had  given  a  most 
solemn  promise  never  to  betray  it  which  promise 
they  kept,  even  after  Captain  Harry  became  owner 
of  the  place. 

The  room  was  said  to  have  been  built  in  the  house 
at  the  time  of  its  erection  as  a  vault  for  family  plate 
and  jewels  of  great  value,  which  were  heirlooms.  In 
this  room  Walter  Brunette  found  refuge  after  every 
flagrant  act  against  Lillian,  and  sometimes  he  wrould 
come  secretly  and  in  disguise  to  his  former  home 
after  a  prolonged  absence,  and  remain  there  for  weeks 
without  his  presence  being  known  to  anyone  but  his 
mother,  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Dawson  and  joe,  and  when 
he  became  tired  of  his  confinement,  some  dark  night 
Joe  would  row  him  down  the  river,  wdth  muffled  oars, 


FINALE 


333 


to  some  place  from  which  he  could  safely  escape.  The 
room  was  discovered  when  Captain  Harry  was  having 
the  house  remodeled.  It  contained  a  narrow  bed,  an 
easy  chair,  a  very  costly  hanging  lamp  and  a  small 
table,  upon  which  were  books  of  the  choicest  poets,  a 
stand  of  fine  cigars  and  several  vases  full  of  dead 
flowers.  On  the  walls  were  a  few  pictures,  gems  of 
art.  One  of  them  was  an  exquisite  picture  in  oil  of 
Lillian. 

Walter  Brunette  had  sought  out  the  artist  who 
had  painted  Lillian's  portrait  just  before  her  uncle's 
death,  and  had  induced  him  to  paint  a  copy  of  the  one 
in  his  possession  by  paying  him  a  very  large  price  for 
it.  It  was  a  faithful  reproduction.  Captain  Harry 
put  it  in  the  art  gallery  and  he  and  his  wife  esteem 
it  one  of  their  greatest  treasures.  Captain  Harry 
kept  Joe  and  his  mother,  because  he  said  they  were 
so  faithful  to  their  former  employer's  interests  he 
did  not  doubt  they  would  be  equally  true  to  his,  and 
they  are.  Old  Mrs.  Dawson  dearly  loves  Captain 
Harry  and  his  wife,  and  is  so  proud  of  little  Robert, 
their  two-year-old  son,  there  is  great  danger  of  her 
spoiling  him.  His  golden  curls  are  like  gleams  of  - 
sunshine  to  her,  and  his  baby  prattle  the  sweetest 
music  in  the  world. 

Paul  Graham  lives  at  his  father's  old  place  now. 
He  and  Maude's  husband  practice  together  and  are 
very  popular  physicians.  There  is  a  houseful  of 
children  at  Moss  Side,  between  whom  and  the  children 
at  the  Hall  there  is  the  greatest  and  fondest  intimacy. 
Scarcely  a  day  elapses  between  their  visits.  Randolph 
Hall,  Moss  Side  and  Cuckoo's  Nest,  whose  histories 
have  been  so  strangely  interwoven,  are  still,  as  at  the 
beginning  of  our  story,  three  of  the  finest  country- 


334 


LILLIAN  DeVERE 


seats  in  the  state,  and  their  owners  and  families  among, 
the  most  highly  esteemed. 

Randolph  Hall  is,  perhaps,  the  most  noted  on  ac- 
count of  the  extraordinary  beauty  and  sweet  attrac- 
tiveness of  its  mistress,  Avhom  all  know  but  to  love. 
Lillian  is  still  a  favorite  with  time,  which  has  added 
rather  than  detracted  from  her  charms.  All  her 
friends  would  doubtless  agree  with  Robert,  who  says, 
"As  a  maiden,  she  was  beautiful ;  as  a  wife,  more 
beautiful ;  as  a  w7if  e  and  mother  combined,  most  beau- 
tiful." 

She,  crowned  with  the  diadem  of  pure  womanhood, 
cares  not  for  the  admiration  nor  adulation  of  the  out- 
side world,  but  finds  her  greatest  joy  in  the  love  of 
her  husband  and  children,  and  esteems  no  honor 
greater  than  to  be  the  beloved  mistress  of  Randolph 
Hall. 

Now  bright  and  pure  and  beautiful 
The  gleams  of  sunshine  fall, 
And  with  their  rays  of  splendor 
Light  up  the  grand  old  Hall; 
Upon  the  turret's  loftiest  height, 
Where  swings  the  deep-toned  bell; 
Upon  the  river's  sparkling  leaves 
They  sport  and  dance  and  dwell. 

And  did  they  never  smile  on  earth 
'T  would  be  a  moonless  even, 
For  life,  indeed,  were  all  unblessed, 
If  hope  came  not  from  heaven. 


